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Return this book on or before the 
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https://archive.org/details/minickcomedyinthOOkauf 


ZTRT ne Be oF THE e a ua i Aen o we f 


GEORGE S| KAUPMAND F000 RR 
nd EDNA FERBER ts ie a eas 








THE RALE McCOY 


A mystery comedy in 3 acts. By M. J. J. MacKeswdl | 
4 males, 3 females. 1 ‘interior scene. Modern colnet : 


The story of the play is that of Robbie John McCoy, 2 SORE Gs of | 
apparently no fixed occupation, who is married to Rose Ann McCoy, . 
a woman of property and of very fixed ideas as to handling a hus- i 

’ band. He returns to his home after an absence of three days and has 
only dim ideas as to all he had done during the time, but he does 
recall that he had, with great difficulty, arranged a match between 

Billy McCandless. and Maggie Robinson. This tale and an unusual’ 

theory advanced by a stranger, concerning death and ghosts, fails 
to interest, much less mollify, Mrs. McCoy, who wants a better 
explanation of her spouse’s protracted absence. Left alone Robbie © 
John dozes in his chair and turns around after a moment to find . 
that a stranger has arrived. She is garbed in the dress of the ancient 
Egyptians. The strange thing about the story, so far, is that Robbie 
John is not asleep. He is not dreaming and the visitor \is real flesh 
and blood. What actually happened is too good to unfold here, but 
suffice it to say that the rapidly occurring situations, led up to by 
sparkling lines, hold your interest from start to finish. 


yy 


(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prick 75 CENTS. 


THE WASP’S NEST 


Mystery comedy in 3 acts. By Adelaide Matthews sud: 
Martha Stanley. Produced originally at Wallack’s Theatre, _ 
New York. 7 males, 5 females. 1 interior. Modern cos- 
tumes. ah | 


Roger McDowell comes to the deserted home of his dead grand- 
father at midnight to meet a prospective buyer. At the same time 

a train en route to New York is held up and robbed by two bandits, |. 
eh later seek refuge in the abandoned house. Henry Fifield, the 
executor and mortgage holder of the estate, also comes to the house | ~ 
this night to seek the original documents and bonds on which he | | 
has been embezzling funds. These bonds rightfully belong to the | - 
McDowells. The presence of these various persons, in addition to a 
colored maid; a young attractive girl, who has escaped from ‘the iy 
robber’ train; the prospective buyer and others, makes for an ex- | 
ceedingly funny situation, since each group believed themselves ‘oie: Se 
alone in the place. There are mysterious disappearances, knocki 
groans, weird rushing sounds, ringing bells, apparitions, everyth 
that a first class mystery pay should have. it ‘| 


bpisoutey: twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75  eneegs 





MINICK 


A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 


BY 
GEORGE S. KAUFMAN 


AND 


EDNA FERBER 


CoPyRIGHT, 1922, 1924, By DouBLEDAY, PacE & Company 
CoPpYRIGHT, 1922, By THE CROWELL PUBLISHING CoMPANY 


CoPYRIGHT, 1924, By GrorcE S. KAUFMAN AND EDNA FERBER 
(Under the title of “Old Man Minick’) 


CopyRIGHT, 1925, By SAMUEL FRENCH, INC. 


All Rights Reserved 


CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that 
“MINICK,” being fully protected under the copyright laws of 
the United States of America, the British Empire, including the 
Dominion of Canada, and the other countries of the Copyright 
Union, is subject to a royalty, and anyone presenting the play 
without the consent of the owners or their authorized agents 
will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Applications for 
the amateur acting rights must be made to Samuel French, 25 
West 45th Street, New York, N. Y. 


New York | LonpDoN 
SAMUEL FRENCH | SAMUEL FRENCH, Lt. 

PUBLISHER | 26 SourHAMPTON STREET 
25 West 45TH StrezT = | STRAND, W.C.2 


MINICK 


All Rights Reserved 


Especial notice should be taken that the possession of 
this book without a valid contract for production first hav- 
ing been obtained from the publisher, confers no right or 
license to professionals or amateurs to produce the play 
publicly or in private for gain or charity. 

In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading 
public only, and no performance, representation, production, 
recitation, or public reading or radio broadcasting may be 
given except by special arrangement with Samuel French, 
25 West 45th Street, New York. 

This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment 
of a royalty of Twenty-Five Dollars for each performance, 
payable to Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York, 
one week before the date when the play is given. 

Whenever the play is produced the following notice must 
appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the 
play: “Produced by special arrangement with Samuel 
French of New York.” 

Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for 
any infringement of the author’s rights as follows: 

“SECTION 4966:—Any person publicly performing or rep- 
resenting any dramatic or musical composition for which 
copyright has been obtained, without the consent of the 
proprietor of said dramatic or musical composition, or his 
heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages thereof, such 
damages, in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less 
than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for 
every subsequent performance, as to the court shall appear 
to be just. If the unlawful performance and presentation 
be wilful and for profit, such person or persons shall be 
guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction shall be 
imprisoned for a period not exceeding one year.”—U. S. 
Revised Statutes: Title 60, Chap. 3. 





Printed in the United States of America by 
THE RICHMOND HILL RECORD, RICHMOND HILL, N. Y¥¢, 


The metropolitan premier of MINICK was given on 
Wednesday evening, September 24th, 1924, at the Boott 
Theatre, West 45th Street, New York City. 


THe ProcrRAM WaAs AS FOoLLows: 


WINTHROP AMES 
PRESENTS 


MINICK 


A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 
BY 


George S. Kaufman and Edna Ferber 


The People of the Play (As they appear) The Players 


DT o's 5 0. ee a x 8 asain bins n.9, 0) 90 Antoinette Perry 
Peer PETE Bg oS ole 52d wei hla id 9. 6a cox'ecbe vs 908 Phyllis Povah 
rR ee MTS as a's Ciavaleinte $\4 SW tiny woe 88 Beatrice Moreland 
AD TMRRIRTE PEIN ey ce sernckatenelccb css esse cas Sydney Booth 
UME T ENERO MTA iis a's solu ie «tbo eo hic s's Coie aisles Frederic Burt 
CREDO IVELETICH vs secu wihs eet weds so Ge Gs be O. P. Heggie 
PERI TIRUATRIITY) iy 64s RE OG co Lda wdielers wots Ralph Bunker 
DEMME IPTA BLOND)» oi).i5 cis oie oe ano tien’ la ein OW Myra Hampton 
PERT ERRIETOE ela cist i as sR Ua NT he o'ee Scie aide ble Sele Emma Wise 
DA RPE TEINIIOVER 55 Unidad tie aWinca's’ s waa Charles R. Burrows 
PREM RCE ye a Se td's tb ose so swe cecal Thomas Meegan 
DORM MALININGE. 6 cick cele visslccs seeds’ Lavinia Shannon 
DAtREN CRACKEEM WALD oo files de fos sess ccuidnale Mary Hubbard 
RA MEET RET LN Dia Gre sin Sk deeds Wen Jessie Graham 
es UES. s winiela eeateatee, o Ann Winslow 
THE ScENE 


Living-room of Fred and Nettie Minick’s Apartment, 
5218 South Park Avenue, Chicago. 


ACT I: An Evening in Spring. 
ACT II: Six Months Later, a November Afternoon. 
ACT III: The Following Morning. 


7 2 £.. * 


Si ~~ 
Bsn! Fe “eel 


CHARACTERS 


Lit Corry 
NetTTIE MINICK 
ANNIE 

Jim Corey 

Frep MINICK 
Outp Man MIniIck 
At DIAMOND 


Marce DIAMOND U\ \ 
Arvin a 
Mr. DIETENHOFER y) 
Mr. PRIcE 


Mrs. SMALLRIDGE 
Miss CRACKENWALD 
Mrs. LIpPINcoTtT 
Miss STack 


NotE—This play can be played by six men and 
seven women. Eliminate “Miss Stack” and dis- 
tribute her few lines to other women. Annie and 
Lula can be played by the same actress. 


THE SCENE 
Living-room of Fred and Nettie Minick’s Apart- 
ment, 5218 South Park Avenue, Chicago. 
Act I. An Evening in Spring. 


Act II. Six Months Later. A November A fter- 
noon. 


Act. III. The Following Morning. 


«AOINI,, 40 [J] ANV ‘[]-] SLOW YOd Lag ‘AYOX MAN ‘AULVAH], HLOOG AHL AO AOVIG AH] 


| 





LIBRARY 
OF THE 


JNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 


ath 


MINICK 


ACT ONE 


ScENE: The lwing-room of Frep and NETTIE 
MINICK’s apartment in Chicago. There is no 
one on the stage as the Curtain rises. From 
the dining-room comes the sound of silverware 
being dumped into a drawer with increasing 
vengeance. Then the drawer ts slammed shut 
with decision. ANNIE is seen to go through 
passage into kitchen, and the sound of women’s 
vowces are heard from the passage left. The 
clock on the mantel strikes once. It is half 
past seven in the evening. 

Liw’s voice, growing clearer as she approaches 
the passage door, 1s heard before she enters. 


Liv. (Enters and calls back) ... Vl tell you 
what we'll do then. I'll read the names off if you 
want to check them and we can see how many we 
have on each of the—where did you say it was? 


(By sofa.) 


NettTieE. (Far off) What? 

Lit. (Crossing to desk) Where’s the committee 
list ? 

Nettie. (Far off) I don’t hear you, Lil. 

Lit. What? 

NETTIE. What did you say? 

Liz. Oh, never mind, I’ll find it. 


5 


6 MINICK 


[Goes to desk and searches about on tt. NETTIE 
enters from passage, carrying folded card table.| 


NetTicE. What did you say, Lil? 

Lit. The committee list. Where did you say it 
was ? 

NetticE. In the third pile under the school list. 


[Starts to set up card table in front of sofa.| 


Lit. Well I dont 4!) ) oh, yes: “Heremireis: 
You’re wonderful, Net—you ought to see my desk. 

Nettie. If I didn’t keep everything in its place 
in that desk I’d be swamped. It’s the one piece of 
furniture in the flat that I won’t let Fred use. 

Lit. I wish I could keep Jim away from mine. 
It’s always stuffed full of golf scores, decks of 
cards and pipe cleaners. (Carrying papers to card 
table.) 

Nettie. (By now she has set up table and sits 
on sofa) Train him. Come on. We can get some 
of this done. 

Lit. (A glance at the clock; getting desk char, 
placing it R. of table, sits) It’s half past seven 
already, Net. His train’s in. 

Nettie. Well, it takes twenty-five minutes to 
get up on the L. (There is a bang from the kitchen; 
NETTIE shakes her head.) Again? 

Lit. If I were you I’d speak to her. 

Nettie. She knows she’s got me. 

Lit. She’d never do that in my house. (She 
notices the card table for the first time.) Oh, you 
did get a new one after all. 

Nettic. What? Oh, card table. Yes, once they 
begin to go... (She is evidently thwmking of 
something else.) Let’s see, South Side. .. . (She 
is ranging papers in piles.) Here’s Mrs. Loper’s. 

Lit. We'll only have to stop in the middle of this. 

NettTIE. They won’t be here for another baie 
minutes. 


MINICK " 


Lit. Jim will. He said he’d be up right after 
dinner. 

4 Nettigz. He was foolish not to come for dinner, 

il. 

Lit. Well, he wanted to see this man anyhow, 
ni he thought he might as well take dinner with 

im. 

Nettie. (All her attention on her work now) 
Now then. There are two hundred and sixty-four 
school houses in Chicago. We should be able to 
throw open at least twenty by, say, the middle of 
May. That gives us two months. Then we will . 

Lit, Well, now, you want to do what? Divide 
the work according to districts first? 


[Sounds of slamming and banging from off L. The 
two women look at each other.| 


Nettigz. She is in a vile temper. After all, Lil, 
I suppose it’s annoying to be made to get out of your 
room on such short notice. 

Lit. What time did he telegraph? 

NETTIE. I got it at five. I don’t know why he 
changed his mind and came today instead of Mon- 
day. Of course when I told Annie she’d have to 
clean out her room and pack her things right away— 
well! 

Lit. You don’t think she’ll leave, do you? 

Nettie. I did at first. Of course we’re paying 
her two dollars more a week—she’s going to sleep 
at her married sister’s. You know—that Emma who 
sometimes comes in to help serve. (A sigh.) Oh, 
well, I hope it’ll work out all right. 

Li. Net, I’m the last person in the world to 
want to discourage you, but it’s going to make an 
awful difference in your household. An old man is 
an old man. 

Nettiz. I know. But he’s really a dear. And 
after all, he’s Fred’s father. 


8 MINICK 


Lit. Why couldn’t he stay down in Bloomington 
where he knows everybody? He could get a house- 
keeper. 

Nettic. Lil—he couldn’t. 

Lit. Why not? 

Nettie. Now, Lil, I’m telling this to you and 
nobody else. What Father Minick has left will 
bring him a few hundred a year, and that’s all. 

Lit. Really? Why, I thought he had 

NETTIE. Yes, so did we. But Mother Minick was 
sick for almost three years, and you know what 
that means, with operations. If Father Minick had 
only stayed in his own business! But no, he had to 
put every cent into that automobile thing and— 
gone. At his time of life! 

Lit, My dear! Then 


[She stops as the clatter of a clothes-horse is heard. 
There is an instant of silence and ANNIE ap- 
pears in the passage doorway, clothes-horse m 
hand. | 


Nettie. What is it, Annie? 

Annie. I always kept the clothes-horse in mv 
room back of the door. Where do you want it to 
go now? 

NETTIE. Can’t you keep it in the basement? 

Annie. I can’t be lugging it up all the time. I 
iron up here. 

NetTTiE. Keep it in the kitchen. 

Annie. I got the ironing board back of the door 
already. And the carpet sweeper. 

Lit. How about the back porch? 

Nettie. (Eagerly) Yes! 

Annie. With the smoke and the dirt from the 
alley? 

Lit, Leave it where it is. 

Nettiz. Oh, Lil, I can’t have a clothes-horse in 
Father Minick’s bedroom. 








MINICK 9 


Lit, Well—there you are. 
[Short pause.] 


NETTIE. Put it—put it in the dining-room, Annie, 
just for tonight, and I'll find a place for it in the 
morning. 

ANNIE. (Grimly) The flat won’t be any bigger 
in the morning. 


[Exits into dining-room; the clothes-horse clatters 
into place; the two women look at each other, 
meaningly. ANNIE returns to the kitchen.| 


Lit. I give her a week. 

Nettie. Lil, don’t say that! . She’s such a won- 
derful cook and goes right ahead with her work. 
I don’t do a thing but the marketing. (Rsses and 
goes to desk, gets card catalogue and returns to 
sofa.) Where were we? (Reads.) Kenwood 
School. 

Lit. Did she make that what’s-its-name we had 
for supper? 

Nettie. It was good, wasn’t it? I never can 
have it when Fred’s home. You know the way men 
are. Meat and potatoes—that’s Fred. 

Lit, Jim’s the same way. Steak seven times a 
week, if I’d give it to him. 

NETTIE. Fred, too. I'll bet that downtown 
tonight he ordered exactly what he’d have at home. 

Lit. I’ve been married to Jim Corey four years. 
And every time we go out with the crowd on Satur- 
day night and I order lobster salad because it makes, 
me feel I’m out—ycu know—Jim says, “Why don’t 
you take something sensible? You know lobster 
means bicarb.” 

NetTTIE. (Busy with her cards) Englewood. 
Normal School, high school— 

Lit. Daisy was saying only yesterday that she 
and George always—— | 


‘10 MINICK 
[The telephone rings.| 


Nettie. Lil, answer it, will you? It may be 
Jim for you. 

Lit. (Rises and goes to phone) Jim wouldn't 
be phoning. He’ll be here almost any-—— (R. to 
phone.) Hello! 

Datsy’s VotcE. Drexel 4269? 

Isis) Yes. 

Datsy’s Voice. Nettie? 

Lit. No, this isn’t Mrs. Minick. D’11—— 

Nettie.’ Who is: it, Lill 

Daisy’s Voice. Is she there? 

Lit. Yes, she’s here. I just answered for—— 

Datsy’s Voice. This is Daisy. 

Nettie. Who is it? 

Lit. Who? 

Datsy’s Voice. This is Daisy. 

Lit. (Laughs) Isn’t that weird! (Turns to 
NETTIE, repeats.) Isn’t that weird! It’s Daisy. 
(Into phone again.) Isn’t that weird! I had your 
name on my lips this very minute. 

Datsy’s Voice. Sounds like Lil. 

Lit. Yeh, Lil. I had dinner here at Nettie’s. 
Jim’s downtown. 


[Sits on stool.] 


NetTTIcE. What’s she want? 

Datsy’s Voice. Are you going 0} (Together 
meet him downtown? 

Lit. No, he’s going to call for me here. 

Datsy’s Voice. If Nettie’s busy I 

NettTiE. If it’s about the crowd, we can’t go. 

Lit. No, she 

Datsy’s Voice. I just wanted to be sure that 
she and Fred knew about tonight. 

Lit, Yes she 











MINICK tI 


Datsy’s Votce. She knows about Bloom’s, 
doesn’t she? 
Lit. Well, she 
Nettie. Tell her Fred and I can’t possibly go 
out tonight. I wouldn’t leave Father Minick, 
Datsy’s Voice. George has found 
a new place where you can get prac- 
tically anything you want and he says 
the food is delicious, too. They make 
a specialty of sea food and they say 
they ship it fresh from New York. 
Besides it’s our anniversary and I think 
it’s mean of Nettie—— 
NetTicE. Tell her Fred’s father’s 
coming to live with us and he'll feel 
strange here and I don’t think it would 
be right to leave him the very first 
night. He’s an old man and I know , 
Rem eee old Aebaboutit-and Seenee) 
Lit. Fred’s father’s coming to live 
with them, you know, and I suppose 
they feel it wouldn’t be right to leave 
him the very first night. It’s too bad, 
because it’s your anniversary and I 
know you counted on having the whole 
crowd together (Breaks off in des- 
peration.) Oh, my goodness, I can’t 
hear a thing! Wait a minute! (To 
NETTIE.) Wait a minute! 
[The voices stop for a moment, then 
start again. | 
Nettiz. (Rising) Here, let me talk to her. I'll 
talk to her. 











[Goes to phone.|] 
Lit. Wait a minute. She wants to talk to you. 


[Lit leaves the phone as NETTIE takes it. At the 
same time ANNIE enters from passage. LIL 


12 MINICK 


goes up R. of sofa. ANNIE has @ gray woolen 
bed blanket in her arms. | 


Nettie. (Jn telephone) Hello, 
Daisy. I’m terribly sorry, but we 
can’t possibly 

ANNIE. What blankets do you 
want on his bed? 

NETTIE. —go out tonight. Fred’s 
father’s coming, and you know—— 

ANNIE. I say, what blankets do (Together) 
you want on his bed? 

NettTiz. If it was any other 

Annie. I say what . 

Nettie. What, Annie? Wait a minute, Daisy. 
What is it, Annie? 

Annie. I’m making up his bed. What blankets 
do you want on it? 





(Together) 








[NETTIE turns to ANNIE. As she does sa the audi- 
ence can hear Datsy’s voice m a flood of 


protest. | 


Daisy’s Voice. If you and Fred don’t come to- 
night, I’ll never forgive you. It’s George and my 
anniversary and you know it. Everybody else in 
the crowd is coming. 

NETTIE. (All the while talking to ANNIE) Take 
one of the spare ones packed away on the top shelf 
in the hall closet. You’d better take two. An old 
man. Fold up yours and we'll air them tomorrow 
on the line before we pack them away. (Jn phone.) 
I was just telling Annie about the blankets. 


(Stmultaneous ) 
ANNIE. Packed NETTIE. (Into phone) 
where? Blankets — never mind. 


Nothing. I was just-—— 


MINICK 13 


Liz. (Talks across 
sofa to ANNIE) Mrs. 
Minick says to take one 
of the spare ones from 
the top shelf in the hall 
closet. 


Annie. I got to get 
up on a chair. 
Lit. And did you 


hear the rest of it? To 
fold up yours and they’ll 
be aired tomorrow. 
ANNIE, Tomorrow. 
What else all’s going to 
be done tomorrow and 
it’s Sunday! 
[Extts D.u.] 


NETTIE. 


Datsy’s Voice. Now, 
listen, Nettie, you and 
Fred simply must come 
tonight. 


Nertiz. Daisy, you 
know perfectly well I 
never miss one of the 
crowd’s Saturday nights 


unless it’s simply un- 
avoidable. 
Daltsy’s VOERGE* 


When’s he coming—the 
old man? 


I’m expecting him any minute now. 


Fred’s bringing him up from the station. 


[Jim rings the doorbell.| 


Lit. I'll go. 


[Goes into hallway. | 


Datisy’s Votce. Well, when Fred comes I want 
to talk to him. I think it’s an outrage. 


NETTIE. 
Jim. 
NETTIE. 


But, Daisy, you know I’m dying to go. 
(In hallway) Hello, there, kiddy! 

I’ve got to hang up now. Here’s Jim! 
Well, call Fred later, Daisy. 


I’ve got to go now. 


(She hangs up as Jim and Lit enter from the hall, 
hts arm around her shoulder. ) 
She’s awfully unreasonable about this, Lil. 


(Note: Daisy's Voice all through this conversation is heard 
indistinctly by the audience, through means of a Dicto- 


graph.) 


14 MINICK 


Jim. ‘What’s the trouble? 

NetticE. (A few steps right) Oh, helio, Jim! 
It’s nothing. Daisy’s so unreasonable. She ought 
to know that with Father Minick coming 

Jim. Hasn’t got here yet, eh? 

NetTTIE. Fred’s meeting him. They’re due now. 

Jim. Say, look here. I was thinking, Lil and I 
oughtn’t to be here. You don’t want a lot of people 
around when he comes, 

Nettic. Nonsense! It'll be nice to have things 
lively. He and Fred will have had their talk on 
the way up from the station. 

Lit. Now, Net, don’t hesitate if you’d rather-—— 


[Gets desk chair from table and puts it at desk.] 


Nettie. No. Really. Marge and Al are coming 
in later anyway. They'll pick you up. 

Jim. (Takes off his coat and hat and tosses them 
on hall table) Well, all right. 

Lit. (Goes to card table) I suppose we might 
as well put these away, huh? 





[Net and Lit make trips from card table to desk, 
putting away cards and papers.] 


NETTIE. We didn’t get much done, did we? 
[In front of sofa.] 
Jim. (Crossing tL.) My gosh! What’s all that? 


[Picks up some papers off card table; Lit takes 
them from him.] 


Netticz. Don’t mix them, whatever you do. 
Jim. Club stuff again? 


[Sts on sofa.] 
Lit. (A trifle belligerently) Yes, it is, 
[Crossing to desk.]} 


MINICK 16 


Jim. What are you trying to do, anyhow? Fix 
the world? 

Lit. (Back to table) Jim, even if you don’t 
understand it, you must admit that three thousand 
intelligent women banded together 

Nettie. As a matter of fact, the Woman’s Civic 
Aid numbers over three thousand. 

Jim. All right. I’m not saying anything against 
it. Only I don’t understand just what you’re driv- 
ing at. 





[Lit crosses to desk. |] 


Nettie. We're trying to do a real welfare work. 
Were going to bring parents and children—especially 
foreign-born ones—closer together—at least my 
committee is. | 

[Lin is at table.] 


Lit. We're giving a series of Saturday night 
get-togethers in the school houses. 


[Returns to desk.]| 


NETTIE. Here are all these school houses lying 
idle every week-end. Now, why can’t they be used 
for community gatherings? 


[Lit and NETTIE finish placing the last neat pile of 
papers on the desk.| 


Jim. All right. But I could run Sears-Roebuck 
with less paper. 

NETTIE. (Giving him a quick glance) Why’d 
you say Sears-Roebuck ? 

Jim. Huh? Why, I don’t know—I—— 

NETTIE. (Crossing to him) Now, Jim. If you 
and Fred are still thinking about that mail order 
scheme—— 


16 MINICK 


Lit. After all Net and I’ve said! 
Jim. Good heavens, no! 


[Sliding to upper edge of sofa.] 


NETTIE. Because Fred and I have been all over 
it and he knows the way I feel about it. I don’t 
think either of you ought to give up good 
positions—— 

[Jim rises.] 


Lit. (Goes right up to him, taking him by sur- 
prise) Jim! You're not still thinking about it, are 
your 

Jim. (Crosses D.R. and looks at clock) No, I 
tell you! They’re late, aren’t they? Fred and—— 

Lit. (Touching him on the arm as he passes) 
Because if I thought you were ! 

Jim. (Turns desperately) Lil, for God’s sake! 
(Goes to desk.) Suppose I phone down and see if 
the train’s in. Maybe it’s late. 


[Sits at desk.] 


Nettic. I wish you would. They ought to be 
here. 





[At lower end of sofa.| 


Jum. What’s he coming on? What road, I mean? 

NetTTIE. Chicago and Alton. From Blooming- 
ton. 

Jim. (Turning leaves of phone book) Bloom- 
ington, huh? 

Lit. I suppose he’s had his dinner? 


[Kneeling on sofa, facing NETTIE who is back of 
table. | 


Nettie. Oh, he’ll eat on the train, of course, 
Alton Limited—there’s a diner, 


61 28rg 229 « AOINI,, 





LIBRARY 
OF THE 
UVERSHTY OF ILLINOIS 


MINICK 17 


Jim. (With phone book) Chicago—Chicago— 
Chicago Alton Railroad. (NETTIE goes mn dining- 
room, gets glass of water and pours tt on roses in 
bowl on table.) General and Executive offices— 
Division Accountant—Pullman Reservations—Lost 
Articles—Freight Traffic Department—Baggage 
Room—Inf—Here it is! Information! (Removes 
receiver.) Franklin 6700... . 

NettTic. (Jn a half whisper to Lit, indicates 
ANNIE) I’m going to see what she’s doing. 


[Tiptoes to passage doorway, Lit rises and goes to 
lower edge of sofa.| 


Jim. (To NETTIE) So the old gentleman’s com- 
ing to live with you, huh? Quite an undertaking. 
Quite an—Franklin 6700. (NETTIE, who has been 
peering and listening at the passage door, from which 
she can see into the kitchen, turns, and speaks to Lin 
in pantomime, moving her lips, “I don’t see her in 
the kitchen. I guess she’s in her room.” Liu re- 
plies, “Oh, I hope he lures 

Lit. Never mind, Jim. 

NETTIE. (Sotto voce to LiL) Oh, she’s in there 
half the time, probably sitting down. 





[Sneaks into the passage.| 


Jim. What’s going on? 
Lit. Oh, never mind! 


[NETTIE ts back again.] 


Jim. What’s all the fussing about? 

Lit. (Irritated) Oh, Jim! 

Jim. Well—— (Jn phone.) Hello! Hello! 
(Turns again to Nettie.) How old is he, anyway? 

NetTIE, What? 


18 MINICK 


[Lit crosses to u.R. of sofa.| 


Jim. How old is the old gentleman? 

Nettic. Father Minick? He’s_ seventy-one. 
(Considers.) Yes, seventy-one. 

Bape My lyri 

Jim. Hello! Say, listen. They must answer; 
it’s the Chicago & Alton Railway Station. (Hum- 
ming to himself.) Seventy-one, huh? Well, you 
know what the Bible says. Three score and ten. 

NETTIE. (Arranging magazines on table) I hope 
Father Minick will live to be with us for many, 
many years. 

Jim. Sure. Sure. But we’ve all got to go some 
time—Hello! 

Lit. Well, Net, I hope it turns out all right. Of 
course, if it were an old lady it’d be different. 
Laura Taylor’s mother-in-law lives with them and 
putters around. (Jim hangs up phone book.) Hems 
curtains, takes a hand in the cooking and fusses 
around her bedroom. But an old man with nothing 
to do! 

Jim. Hello! Information! Hello! 


[The sound of the outer door slamming. FReEp’s 
familiar whistle that always announces his 
homecoming. | 

Nettie. Here they are! 
[Crosses to front of sofa.] 


Jim. Oh! 


[Hangs up receiver and rises, steps up Cc. FRED 
enters, carrying Minicx’s bag.] 


FreD. Hello! Here he is! 


MINICK 19 


[Pops back into hall and draws on Mintcx by the 
latter's left arm. Otp Man MINIcK enters. 
He 1s smiling a little uncertainly, blinking a 
little what with the light and the strange faces 
that greet him, but he 1s jaunty enough.| 


NETTIE. (Crosses R. to just in front of him) 
Well, Father Minick! (Kisses him.) I’m awfully 
glad to see you! How are you? All right? 

Minick. You bet! (Pinches her cheek.) You're 
looking pretty fine, Nettie! 

Nettie. Here— (Crosses and gets Rr. of him.) 
give me your coat. Fred, you know where the bag 
goes. 

Minick. Now, don’t you wait on me. I can take 
care of myself fine. 

Frep. (Zo Jim and Lit) Well, this is nice! 
Hello! Hare you! 


[Puts down MINIcx’s bag on phone stool, goes into 
hall to leave his hat and coat.]| 


Jim and Lit. Hello! 

Nettrc. Father, this is Mr. and Mrs. Corey. 
Friends of ours. 

Lit. How do you do, Mr. Minick ? 

Jrm. Hi’are you! 

NETTIE. Well, father, take off your coat. You’re 
going to stay a while, you know. 

Minick. (Starts to take off his coat, shunning 
her aid. Encounters Jim, who in turn has stepped 
forward to assist him. To Nettiz) All right. (To 
Jim.) Never mind! I can do it! (He takes off 
his coat unaided, tosses it and his hat on desk chair. 
Bringing his hands together with a clap, he rubs 
them briskly. He's at home.) Well! Certainly 
got a nice place here. 

Frep. (Reéntering from hall) Like it? 


20 MINICK 


NETTIE. Well, father, are you tired from your 
trip? 

Minick. Me? No—takes more’n a train trip 
to tire me. Yes sir! (Telephone rings; FRep 
answers it.) —more’n a train trip to tire me 

Frep. Hello!) What? Why, nol gebcoa. 
think—wait a minute. (To the others.) Does any- 
body want the Chicago & Alton? 

Jim. No! 

Nettie. Oh, that was long ago. 

Frep. (Jn phone) No! 





[Hangs up.] 


Lit. (Taking a step to Minick) I guess your 
train was a little late, wasn’t it? 

Minick. Ma’am? 

Lit. Wasn't your train a little late? 

Minick. Nope. Right on time. To the dot. 
(NETTIE takes Minicx’s coat and hat from the chair 
and goes into hall with them. FRED goes front of 
table off into the passage with MINIcK’s stray suit 
case.) About ten seconds late pulling into Pontiac, 
but made it up between there and Dwight. Pulled 
into Dwight at five forty-seven; pulled into Joliet 
at six forty-five; pulled into Halsted Street Station 
at seven-twenty sharp; pulled out of Halsted Street 
Station at 

Nettie. (Returning from hall, she touches 
Minticx lightly on the right shoulder, as she crosses 
him, and goes below sofa to door D.L.) Now, Father. 
You'll want to see your room. 

Minick. (Looking around room) All right, 
Nettie. A-a-a-all right! If it’s half as nice as this, 
it'll certainly be nice. Yessir! You’ve certainly got 
it fixed up nice out here. Ver-y tasty! Yessir! I 
like a little more light, myself, but these lamps are 
all the go now, seems. 





MINICK 21 
[Lin sits upper arm of sofa.] 


NETTIE. Come, Father. 

Minick. All right. Yessir! All the go since I 
was here (To Liz.) I haven’t been to Chicago 
since before Ma took sick. Used to come pretty 
regular. 

Lit. Is that so? Quite a while, is it? 

Minick. Well, quite a while, yes. One—two— 
let’s see. (Preparing for along story, he turns desk 
chair to face them and sits there.) Ma took sick 
second week in August almost three years ago. (Jim 
sits table char.) August eleventh, it was. Com- 
plained of a pain right here. (NETTIE sits lower 
arm of sofa.) “Go to a doctor,’ I says. “Don’t 
tell me about it! Go see Matthews,” I said, “or 
have him come here!” Had to talk to her like 
that. Rather suffer than go to a doctor. Scared. 
Well, finally, I got her to go. Come home talking 
kind of gay, and said Matthews said it was nothing, 
but I smelled a rat right away. Yessir. Minute I 
heard X-Rays I said to Ma—*Ma,” I said—“you 
can’t fool me as 

Jim. Terrible thing, sickness. 

Minick. Anything but sickness, I always say. 
Any other kind of trouble, yes. But you take sick- 
ness 

Nettie. Now, Father Minick, come along. I 
want you to make yourself at home here. 











[Minick puts desk chair back and crosses slowly to 
R. of NETTIE.] 


Minick. All right. Got some things in my trunk 
for you, Nettie. Ma’s things. Tell you what else 
I got, too. You know that last picture she had taken, 
before she took sick? Well, I had an enlargement 
made—— (Indicates its sige.) That'll go right over 


22 MINICK 


your bookcase there, slick as anything. (Exits into 
passage, NETTIE following.) It’s got a handsome 
gold frame on it, about four inches wide, made of 
gold mostly 

Frep. (Enters p.L. and crosses above table to 
u.R.) Isn’t Dad a wonder for his age? 

Lit. Certainly is. } 

Jim. Fine old boy. (Fagethen) 

Lit. Do you think there is anything I can do 
for Nettie? 


[Rises and crosses to desk.| 





Frep. No, she'll be right in. There’s nothing to 
do. 
[The clock strikes eight.] 


Lit. My! It’s eight o’clock. Marge and Al ought 
to be here. 
[Sits in desk chair.] 


Jim. (To Frep) I guess you and Nettie won't 
be able to get away, huh? 

Frep. Well, no. I’m afraid not tonight. 

Jim. Still, he might turn in early. Even if you 
came a little late, why 

Minick. (Enters from passage, followed by 
NETTIE) Yessir! Very nice! 





[Goes to FRED, c.] 
Frep. Well, Dad! 
[Puts his hand on Mintcx’s shoulder.] 


NETTIE. (Sits on sofa and invites MINICK fo sit 
beside her) Now, you sit down, Father, and have 
a nice visit with us. 

Lit. Are you all fixed up, Mr. Minick? 


[Her voice ts raised as though speaking to someone 
deaf. | 


MINICK 23 


Minick. (Jn raised voice, imitating hers) Yes, 
Ma’am (Then whispers.) Iam. 

NETTIE. I was just saying to Father Minick I 
wish we had a big front bedroom for him, I’d 
gladly give him ours, and we’d move back there, only 
that room’s too small for twin beds and the dresser 
and Fred’s chiffo-robe and all. 

Minick. That room’s fine. Good enough for 
anybody. | 

Nettie. You wait till I get the cretonne slips 
made. And I'll have a little reading lamp for you 
and an easy chair. 

Minicx. That’s fine—fine! Just one thing I 
noticed, though. I wonder if you could spare me 
another pillow. You see, I sleep high, and if 

NETTIE. Why, of course. Now if there’s any- 
thing else you want 

Minick. No, no—everything’s fine. (Goes to 
armchair p.R.) Ill be out here most the time, 
anyway. (Feels the covering of the chair as he 
sits.) H’m! Silk! 

IM. Well, sir, how do you think you’re going to 
like little old Chicago ? 

Minick. Chicago? I like Chicago first-rate. 
Say, I knew Chicago before any of you young sprats 
were born. Why, you know where the Greenabaum 
Bank stands, LaSalle and Monroe 

Frep. LaSalle and Madison, Father. 

Minick. That’s what I said. (FRED crosses 
above sofa, gets cigarette box, offers cigarette to Jim 
who refuses, and comes down lower edge of sofa.) 
Why, LaSalle Street wasn’t anything, time I was 
your age. Wooden sidewalks and mud up to here. 
(Thrusts out one foot.) You could have bought 
that ground for a song. 

Frep. I always say if anybody had been a good 
singer in 1875, he’d own Chicago now. 


[Sits on sofa beside NETTIE. | 














24 MINICK 


Minick. (Bewtldered) Singer? 

NetTTI£E. Don’t pay any attention to him, Father 
Minick. Fred’s just trying to be funny. 

Minick. Singer? Oh, singer—you mean—say, 
that’s a good one! Anybody’d been a good singer 





[Laughs. Jim lights cigar which he has taken from 
his pocket.] 


Jim. (Rtsing and crossing down to MINIcx, 
taking another cigar from his vest pocket) Have a 
cigar, Mr. Minick? 

Minick. (Takes it) Thanks. 

Jim. (Going back to former position) Light? 

Minick. After supper. I never smoke before I 
eat. 


[Consternation on NETTIE’s face. One of those 
looks between her and Liu and between her and 
FRED. | 


Nettiz. You didn’t eat on the train, father? 

Minick. Never eat train food if I can help it. 
Don’t like it, and anyway costs like all-get-out. 
Bread and butter extra. Piece of parsley on a 
platter, and where’s your dollar? 


[Puts cigar in his pocket.] 


Frep. Why, Father, if I’d known, we’d have 
stopped downtown. (NETTIE rises) Nettie 

NETTIE. (Goes vu.c.) Ill get you something 
right away. 

Lit. (Rising) Let us help. 

Nettie. Will you, Lil? I don’t want to ask 
Annie. 

Minick. (Rising and going up a few steps) 
Now don’t you girls fuss. Just anything you got in 
the house. Don’t you bother for me. 





[Lat goes into the dining-room and on into kitchen.] 


MINICK 28 


Nettie. (Turning in dining-room door) I’m 
afraid there isn’t much, Father. We had a kind of 
pick-up dinner with Fred downtown. 

Minick. It’s all right. I’m a light eater my- 
self. Little soup. Cold meat and a couple of eggs. 

NetTTIE. (Rather feebly, as she exits) Ah— 
yes 

Minick. (Strolling down toward hall) Nettie 
certainly looks fine. Fine. J don’t know that I 
ever saw her look better. Handsome girl, Nettie. 
(Peers into hallway, and then turns—to Jim.) Your 
wife ain’t bad-looking. No, sir. 





[Drifts up to window.] 


Jim. (Smirks to FreD on MINIcK’s remark; 
rises and comes D.c.) Well, what do you know? 
Frep. Oh, nothing in particular. And you? 

Jim. About the same. 


[MINICK is peering out the window trying to see in 
the dark.| 


Minick. H’m! Trees out there? 

Frep. That’s the park, Father. Washington 
Park. 

Minick. Don’t say! 

Jim. I got some more figures today. Bradley 





[Comes R. of card table, takes a card out of his 
pocket and hands it to Frep.] 


Frep. Yeh? 

Jim. The kind of list we want would cost us 
close to five thousand. 

Frep. Phew! Steep! 

Minick. What floor’r we on? 

Frep. The second, Dad. 


26 MINICK 


Minick. H’m! Well! 

Jim. Of course, I don’t suppose we can ever 
really go ahead, with both the girls fighting us on it. 

Frep. Nettie blows up every time I mention it. 


[Minick turns, and edges over to them.| 


Jim. So does Lil. They began it tonight. 
Jumped on me, both of them. 


[Crossing to upper edge of sofa and sitting. | 


Frep. You mean they brought it up? 

Jim. I forget how it came up, but 

Minick. What are you two boys talking about? 
Business ? 

Frep. Oh, nothing in particular, Dad. I tell 
you, Jim, this is the time to start. Two or three 
houses have got it all today. 

Minick. What you going to do? New busi- 
ness ° 

Frep. Five years ago I’d have said no, but things 
are getting back to where they were before the war. 

Minick. Now, Fred, I don’t want you risking a 
lot of money in any new business. You got a good 
job, let somebody else do the worrying. 

Frep. Please, Father. We're not 

Minick. That’s all right. But you know the 
way you are. What kind of business is it, any- 
way? Something new-fangled ? 

Frep. No, Father. It’s the mail order business. 
Nothing to get excited about. 

Minick. Well, sir, you go careful. That don’t 
strike me like anything for a couple of young fel- 
lows. Probably go to work and lose everything you 
got. And I'll tell you why. (Gets desk chair, puts 
it near them and sits.) What’s your mail order 
business depend on? 








MINICK 27 


Frep. All right, Dad. 

Minick. Depends on your little towns. All right, 
sir. Take your little towns. Take Bloomington. 
There’s a town set right down in the middle of the 
richest farming country in Illinois. And what’s hap- 
pened to her! Your farmer today is strapped. 
What’s he getting for his wheat? What’s he getting 
for his corn? And whose fault is it? I tell you 
till Europe gets on her feet we might just as well 
all mark time over here, and lucky we’re not going 
backwards. A growing country like this has got 
to have outlets or where is she? You take any one 
of those countries over there today—you take Po- 
land, you take Roosha, you take Czecho—uh—take 
Roumania 

Frep. Oh, Father. We're only talking. 

Minick. Well, I’ve been through it and I know. 
If I’d waited a couple of years till things was more 
settled, I’d be a rich man today with that automobile 
tire. 

Frep. But this is quite another thing, Dad. You 
don’t understand. 

Minick. (As NETTIE enters from passage carry- 
ing tray, followed by Lit with lunch cloth) It’s a 
new business, ain’t it? And you’re talking about go- 
ing into it? 

NETTIE. (Stops still in her tracks) Oh, is he? 
Well, there isn’t going to be any new business, and 
don’t you forget it! 





[ MINICK rises. | 
Frep. All right! 


[Rises and goes to armchair p.R. JIM rises and 
goes up to a window seat. | 


Lit. (As she crosses to R. of card table and lays 
cloth) The minute you two get together 





‘28 MINICK 
[FRED sits in armchatr D.R.] 


Minick. (Looking at food, hungrily) That 
looks good. 

Nettie. (Placing tray on card table) I brought 
it right in here, Father, so you can visit with us 
while you eat. 

Minick. Well, I didn’t want you to go to any 
bother. (Picks up dish.) What’s this? 

NetTi£. That’s a little Waldorf salad, Father. 
We had it for supper. 

Minick. Waldorf salad, h’m? What’s in it? 


[Stirs it a bit with knife, as he stands.| 


NETTIE. Well, you try it and see. There’s apples 
in it, and nuts, and mayonnaise, 





[Sets down the tray.] 


Lit. (Just r. of Minick) It’s delicious. I wish 
I was going to have some. 


[Otp Man Minicx’s face doubts this.] 


NetTIE. Now, you sit right down, Father, and 
eat while things are hot. 

Minick. (After an inclusive glance) What’s 
hot? 

NettTIE. (Moving things on tray a little) Well, 
your tea. And here’s some nice warmed-up spinach. 


[Very little enthusiasm from Minicx. He pomts 
again. | 


Minick. What’s that? 
NetTIE. That’s a coddled egg. 


[Picks it up and hands it to him.] 


MINICK 29 


Minick. Coddled? 

Nettie. It’s good for you at this time of night. 
(Sits middle of sofa.) Gives you your calories and 
vitamines. 


[His look of bewilderment to NETTIE and then to 
Lit shows that the words are meaningless... Liu 
turns away and speaks to Jim at window.] 


FreD. (Goes over to tray, looks it over) Looks 
pretty good, all right. 


[Minick looks at Frep as if he doubted it.] 


Minick. (Tucks his napkinin) Yes, sir! Fine! 
Fella couldn’t ask for any better. (LIL goes to 
chair by table and sits. A pause. Begins to eat. He 
is a little noisy about it, especially with the more 
liquid portions of the meal. The coddled egg he 
brings up in its cup and sups it with a spoon.) Any- 
body else want a bite? 

NETTIE. We've all eaten, Father. 

Minick. (Over his shoulder) How about you, 
Corey? 

Jim. No, thanks. 

Minick. Some nice spinach here going to waste. 

NetTTIE. Here’s some cream for your cold rice 
pudding. 

[Handing it to him.]| 


Minick. I see it. I see it. (Returns it to 
table.) What do eggs bring in Chicago now? 

Nettie. It depends, Father. The best ones are 
very high. 

Minick. You give me a couple of days and I'll 
save you 20%. Where do you do your trading? 

NetTieE. (Visibly patient) On Fifty-first Street, 
Father. 


30 MINICK 


Minick. That’s the reason. You watch me. I'll 
go down to South Water Street. 

NETTIE. Don’t you bother about that, Father 
Minick. (MINICK takes a too-hasty mouthful, spills 
a spoonful of egg on his coat lapel and vest, is dis- 
mayed, wipes it hastily with his napkin, scratches at 
it with a knife, takes a furtive look around to see if 
they have noticed. They pretend not to have-—all 
but Nettie. ) Use a little water. 


[Minick dips his napkin in water glass, rubs the 
spots futilely. | 


Minick. H’m—coddled, eh? Can’t get your 
teeth into it. 

Lit. It’s good for you. 

Minick. Ya—I suppose so. You young couples 
see a good deal of each other, do you? 

NETTIE. Yes, we’re very good friends, Father. 


[Lit pats her hand.| 


Minick. I see. I see. (He eats. A pause.) 
Come in to spend the evening, eh? (Eats.) Well, 
looks as if we could get up a pretty nice pinochle 
game some time—the three of us. What say? 

Frep. We don’t play that much in Chicago, Dad. 

_jJim. (Yo Minick) It’s a game I never learned, 
sir. 

Minick. Huh! What do you play? 

Lit. We play bridge. 

MINIcK. Bridge, eh? Well, I guess I can pick it 
up. 
NETTIE. (With apprehension) It’s a_ pretty 
difficult game, Father. 

Minick. M-m-m-m-, a fellow that can play 
pinochle can play pretty much anything. (To Liz.) 
You got any family? 


MINICK 31 


Lit. (Rather helplessly) Family? 

Nettiez. Father Minick means children, Lil. 

Lit. No. No children. 

Minick. Married long? 

Lit. Four years. 

Minick. Four years, h’m? Fred and Nettie been 
married three. My day, when folks got married, 
they had babies. 

Nettic. Nowadays, Father Minick, people think 
about whether it’s fair to the child. 

Minick. Well, I guess Ma and I forgot that. 
(He now surveys the empty tray.) Well! 

Nettie. Have you had enough, Father? 


[He takes a sip of tea and grimaces.| 


Minick. Plenty, plenty. Besides, just as well to 
eat light this time of night. (Fishes in his vest 
pocket for his cigar.) Read just the other day where 
a fella died from eating too much. 


[Puts cigar in his mouth; Frep crosses to MINICK, 
taking a box of matches from his pocket.| 


Frep. (Sirikes a match) Here you are, Father. 


[Gives him the lighted match. FRep returns to his 
seat. | 


Minick. (Puffs with aloud putt-putting. Holds 
the cigar off contemplatively) Yessir! (Throws 
burnt match in tea cup.) Died! (A pause here, 
with the others sitting about almost helplessly silent. 
There seems nothing to say. NETTIE puts tea cup 
on tray.) Well, what time do you folks go to bed? 

Frep. This is a little early for us, Dad. 

Nettic. (Re-arranging the dishes on the tray) 
If you’re tired there’s no reason why you shouldn’t 
get your good night’s sleep. Now, why don’t you? 


32 MINICK 


Minick. Who? Me? I’m as wide-awake as a 
whistle. 

Nettie. I just thought you might be. We have 
some friends coming in a little later. 

Minick. This time of night? 

Frep. They’re not going to stay. 

Minick. Then what they coming for? 

Lit. They’re stopping for us. We’re going as 
soon as they come. 

Minick. Oh! 


[Looks expectantly at his watch. NETTIE folds up 
napkin. | 


NetTTiE. (Rising. Picks up tray from table) Lil, 
will you just fold the cloth up? 


[Lit comes down to front of card table, starts to fold 
cloth. | 


Frep, Why are you doing that? Where’s Annie? 
Nettie. (Between card table and sofa, holding 
tray) Fred, she’s had enough to do today with- 
out 
Frep. Nonsense! (Rises and crosses to passage 
door—calls ; Lit drops cloth on table and goes U.L.) 
If I ran my office the way (Calls.) Annie! 
Nettie. Now, Fred, I wish you wouldn’t inter- 
fere when I’m 











[She stops as ANNIE, a rather sinister figure by now, 
looms up in the passage door. NETTIE turns 
D.R., leaving FRED in charge of the field. NETTIE 
turns up to window. | 


Frep. (Standing v.L. of table) Would you mind 
clearing away that tray, Annie. 


[Turns up around table to L. of it and stands watch- 
ing. ANNIE goes to tray m silence, going be- 








— 
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© 
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a, 
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NV) 
Y 


By ane al ake 


“MINICK” 





LIBRARY 
OF THE 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 


— 





MINICK 33 


tween card table and sofa, and grimly. This 
brings her face to face with MINIck, who looks 
up at her from his chair and smiles friendly. 
The others are far from smiling. ANNIE re- 
arranges the dishes preparatory to carrying the 
tray. This she does with unnecessary energy. | 


Nettie. (With an assumption of graciousness 
she «s far from feeling) Annie, this is Mr. Minick’s 
father, who is going to live with us. Father Minick, 
this is our Annie. 

Minick. H’are you, m’girl? 

ANNIE. (Surlily. FRED moves to back of table) 
H’are you? 

Nettic. We couldn’t get along without Annie, 
could we, Annie? She makes us all comfortable, 
don’t you, Annie? (ANNIE clatters a dish.) Oh, 
tomorrow, Annie—there’s no reason why you should 
come in early. You know, Mr. Minick and I always 
sleep late Sunday. (Remembers Minick.) Oh, 
Father, Fred and I are very lazy Sunday morning. 

Minick. Not me. I’m up and around six o’clock. 


[ANNIE gives him a hard look.| 





Nettie. Oh, but Annie won’t be here until 

Minick. That’s all right. Ill just stir around 
in the kitchen as quiet as a mouse. (ANNIE again 
looks at him menacingly.) Fix some coffee and 
toast and boil me an egg. (She puts up tray and 
starts L.) That’s all I take, as a general thing. 
(Rises and starts L. after her.) Maybe some cereal. 


[She grimaces again, turns and starts through door 
Lt. At Diamond rings the doorbell.| 


Lit. That’s Marge and Al. 
Nettie. It’s all right, Annie. I'll go. 


34 MINICK 


Frep. (He jerks the desk chair back to its place 
by the desk and begins to fold up the card table) 
You’d think that girl was the last girl on earth. 

NETTIE. (As she crosses to hall) Well, a nice 
white girl doesn’t like sleeping out. 

Lit. And Nettie never used colored help. Once 
you begin you never can 





[Frep puts card table back of chaw at window. 
From the hall comes Aw’s votce—the voice of 
a professional back-slapper. MArcE’s too.| 


At. (Off) Everybody ready! The parade is 
starting! 
Marce. (Off) Hello there, Net! 


[ Enters. | 


Lit. (A glance at the clock) Only twenty min- 
utes late. 

Au. (Enters. Aw’s entrances always amount to 
an explosion. He bursts into the room) Well, 
citizens ! 

Marce. Hello, boys and girls. 

Au. And citizenesses! Would appreciate a little 
round of welcome, and the keys to the old buffet! 


[ MarcE goes into hall and arranges her hair before 
mirror. MINICK 1s standing apart, a trifle un- 
certainly, smiling a little, below sofa. Things 
look lively and he anticipates some fun.] 


Frep. (Leaning the folded card table against the 
L. end of the desk) Hello, Al. 
Lit. (Advancing toc.) Well, I must say—— 


[Jim waves a welcome. | 


AL. (Crosses to LiL) Oh, you kid! Remember 
—“Papa loves mamma, mamma loves papa.” 


Se ea 


MINICK 35 


[He gives a playful jerk to a ribbon on Liv’s waist. 
MINIcK abserves all this; gives a cackle of ap- 
preciation. Aw has a trick of clapping his hands 
together and rubbing them briskly. It expresses, 
for him, geniality. This he now does. MARGE 
enters, followed by Nettiz. Marck 1s shrill, 
gay, “the life of the party.’ | 


Marce. (Reénters from hall) Listen, we’re not 
terribly late, are we? 

Lit. (Crossing to Marce) Not any later than 
usual. 

Marce. Well, listen, we got started on time, hon- 
est to God, but Al had a 

Av. (Back to audience) Lots of time. Shank 
of the evening, that’s what it is! (Starts to chuck 
NETTIE under the chin, but MarcE stops him. He 
turns to FRED.) Shank of the evening! and a BIG 
night ahead! Wait till those little corks get to 
popping! 

Frep. (To MArce and Ax) I don’t think you’ve 
ever met my father. Father, this is Mr. and Mrs. 
Diamond. 





[Marce’s greeting is too slight for utterance, so 
that one hears only “ do,’ as her glance 
slides past him. Aw goes to MINIck.] 





Marce. Lil, my God, what do you think! You 
know that crepe romaine I got at Vogue—Nettie, 
listen to this— (NETTIE turns to her.) —I paida 
hundred and seventy-five for it and what do I see 
this afternoon in Leschin’s but the same dress down 
to the embroidery on the slip. I went right in and 
asked the price. I pret’ nearly died when the girl 
told me. Ninety-eight fifty. Well, believe me, I 
marched right down to Vogue and gave them a piece 
of my mind they won’t forget ina hurry. “Listen,” 
I said—“‘What do you folks mean i 





36 MINICK 


AL. (Speaks simultaneously with MarcE, to 
MINIcK, having just been tmtroduced; following 
dialogue ts simultaneous with MArGE’s speech down 
to where Au calls “Lit”) Well, I certainly am glad 
to meet Fred’s father. Anybody that’s got Fred 
Minick for a son must be all right! Ill tell the 
world! 

Minick. (Genial, if bewildered) ‘That’s right! 
That’s right ! 

Au. Yop! Fred’s a grand fella—when he’s sober. 
(A dig in Frep’s ribs. Men’s conversation quiets 
a bit.) Well! 


[The noisy clap of the hands. Starts back of table.]| 


Minick. Dinehart, d’you say the name was? 

Frep. Diamond, Father. 

AL. (Stamping away, thumbs in his vest. He 
prances, crossing MINICK, around table to upper end 
of it, where JIM meets him. Frep turns up and 
joins, making a group of three men, above table and 
sofa) Diamond is right! And eighteen karats! 
Well, James, m’boy! How’s the old universe been 
mistreating you? 


[FRED crosses up right to JiM.] 


Minick. (Crosses below table and attempts to 
join group U.R. More to himself than not, the others 
having turned away, leaving him aqain alone) Oh, 
Diamond. I thought you said Dinehart. Because I 
used to know a fella named Dinehart in the paint 
business in Springfield. Paints and oils. 

Marce. (Continuing)—by having the nerve to 
charge me one hundred and seventy-five dollars for 
a dress that I saw the exact same 

Jim. (Jn answer to Av’s last speech to him) Oh, 
can’t complain, 








MINICK 37 


Au. Oh, say, who do you think I wrote for twen- 
ty-five thousand iron boys this afternoon? Remem- 
ber Sid Herman? 

Minick. (ln effort to get into conversation) 
Friend of yours? 

AL. (Goes on paying no attention to MINICK. 
Crosses and joins the women at R.c., followed by 
Frep and Jim. They make a compact group at R.c. 
Calls) Lil! 

Lit, What? 

Ax. Sid Herman—you knew him, too, Net. Ask 
Marge if she remembers him. 

Minick. (Following along to above sofa. Oblig- 
ingly) Do you? 

Marce. Oh, shut up, Al. 

Au. Ill say she remembers him. Came within 
an inch of hooking up with him, that’s merely all. 


[A clap of his hands and the brisk rubbing of palms. 
A shout of laughter goes up from crowd, who 
have gathered in a little group.| 


Jim and Lit. Oh-h-h, you Marge! 


[ Minick is vague as to what all the notse and banter 
means, but is determined to be gay, too. In 
imitation of Au he claps his hands loudly to- 
gether and rubs his palms briskly. He beams 
upon the group with his grin which by now has 
grown somewhat set. He expects some genial- 
ity on return, but no one is paying any attention 
to him. In the following scene the six young 
people form a close little group in which four, 
and frequently all six, are talking at the same 
time. MINICK is definitely outside the group.| 


At. Well, how about it? Let’s shake a leg! 
(Shaking his leg in illustration.) Hop on the old 
band-wagon, or forever after hold your peace! 


38 MINICK 


Jim. What time is it? 

Au. Starting time if we’re going to where we're 
going to get to! 

Marce. Did Daisy and George phone? 

NETTIE. Yes, Daisy called up a little while ago, 
but she wasn’t sure where they were going. 

Lit. Well, if Daisy doesn’t know, who does? 
It’s their party. 

Av. Say, that’s a fine note. Why, I saw George 
this afternoon and he said Keystone Club. The li'l 
old Keystone Club. 

Jim. Oh, what d’you want to drive way out there 
for? River Forest. Takes upwards of an hour and 
a half. Time you get out there it’ll be time to turn 
around and come back. 

Marce. I heard of a wonderful new place the 
other day. Listen, I heard of a wonderful new place 
the other day. Bess Snyder told me about it. It’s 
called the—oh, I don’t know—it’s out on—anyway, 
she says you can get practically anything you want 
and a wonderful cabaret 





[Minick up to this time has maintained his com- 
pany grin. But now he decides to give up, 
Decides to shift for himself. Turns. Notices 
that one bulb of the table lamp is not lighted.| 


Lit. I used to like Ike Bloom’s place. I don’t 
see why we have to drive way out of town. 

Av. All right. We aim to please. That’s our 1i’l 
motto! Who’s for the House That Jack Built? 

Jim. Oh, say, that’s miles out on the Milwaukee 
Avenue Road. Eleven before we get there. 

Marce. Well, suppose it is? 

Lit. I thought we were going to some place in 
town. 

Jim. Got to do a lot a detouring on the Mil- 
waukee Avenue Road. Torn up. 


MINICK 30, 


Av. Well, let’s get together. All together for 
the big show. In this tent, ladies and gentlemen 

Marce. Pete’s sake, yes! 

Lit. Well, I’ll get my things. 





[Au helps her cross u. Exits into the passage. The 
clock strikes half-past eight.] 


Au. (Loud clap of the hands) All right, lads 
and lassies. Keystone Club it is. Peerade moves 
north on Cherry Street. Forward! March! 


[Starts towards door, prancing and singing. Aw 
goes through group into outer hall, followed by 
MarceE and JIM. JIM puts his coat on. They 
go out of sight. Jim goes to the opening and 
as they say “good-bye,” turns back into the room 
towards MINIck. FRED by desk chair. NETTIE 
by lower corner of desk. MINICK 1s by now 
up at front left end of table on which stands a 
lamp. He is idly pulling the lamp chain, hss 
head half turned towards the noisy group. He 
notices that something is wrong with one chain. 
It does not pull. Is stuck, apparently. He 
stoops slightly to peer at 1t.| 


Nettie. Well, good-bye. 

Frep. Good- bye, have a good time. 

AL. (Reappearing in the doorway and advanc- 
ing a step into the room. MArcE stands in the door- 
way; JIM is seen over her shoulder) Whaddeyou 
mean, good-bye! 

Nettie. Fred and I aren’t going, you know. 

Marce. Not going? 

At. Not going! You’re crazy! Loony like a 
loon, that’s what you are! Why aren’t you going? 
Frep. (Low voice) We can’t go tonight, Al. 

At. Why not, for Pete’s sake! (NETTIE gives 


40 MINICK 


a significant glance at the old man. Very loud.) 
Well, for—! TIl soon fix that. Al W. Fixit— 
that’s who I am. 

NETTIE. No, no, Al. 

Frep. (Jn protest) Al! 

Aut. (Calling over their heads to Minick) Heh, 
Papa! You don’t care if they go out, do you? 

Minick. Huh? 

Au. (Going directly over to M1ntcK) You don’t 
care if Fred and Nettie breeze out awhile? 

Minicx. Breeze? 

Frep, (Taking a step near AL) Never mind, 
Dad. 

Av. Yeh. With us. The crowd. You can take 
care of yourself, can’t you, kid? 

Minick. Me? Why, sure I can. I’m no baby. 
I’m all right. 

AL. (Comes back to doorway) There! What 
did Uncle Allie tell you? 

Minick. (Peering around at Freep and NETTIE) 
You going somewhere? Pretty late, ain’t it? 

Frep. Nettie and I aren’t going, Dad. It’s only 
the others. 

NetTTIE. We’re going to stay home with you. 

Minick. Nobody has to stay home with me. 
(Nervously jerking the lamp chain.) I can take care 
of myself. Take care of myself fine. You go right 
along with your friends here and enjoy yourself. 
Yessir. Take care of myself fine. Nobody’s got 
to stay with me. Nobody’s got to—— (He 1s a little 
startled by the whole proceedings, and somewhat 
embarrassed by his own feelings. To conceal ths 
he concentrates on the faulty lamp as though that 
were his chief concern.) This light don’t work. 


[Minick quite suddenly turns and goes off into the 
passage just as Lit enters. She steps aside for 
him, sensing the situation. | 





MINICK 4I 


Lit. (She stands in passage door looking after 
Minick) What’s the matter? 
Frep. Where’s he Shouldn’t I see if 








[ Goes below sofa, looking after MINIck.]| 
NetTiE. It’s all right, dear. 
[ Pantomime. | 


At. (A step towards FreD) ’Course he’s all 
right. (More confidence.) No nurse needed for 
that old boy. 

Frep. Well—— 


[Turns back. | 


Av. Come on, people! Into your duds! This 
way for the big show! 


[He makes a megaphone of his hands. Curcling 
around NETTIE to door, singing “Papa loves 
mamma.” 


NetTi£. Al, we just can’t go yet. Why don’t 
you go ahead and we'll follow, if we possibly can? 

Frep. Yes, let’s leave it at that. 

Marce. Oh, don’t be silly. I never heard any- 
thing so old-fashioned in my life. 

Lit. (Coming down beside Frep, below him. 
Crossing R.) I think that’ll be best. We know 
you'll come if you can. 

Frep. (Crossing to AL) You four go ahead. 
We'll catch up to you. 


[Lit crosses and exits.] 


At. Now, you’re not going to backslide! Come 
one, come all—we want ’em all! 


42 MINICK 


Frep. We have to wait till he goes to bed. 

Aut. All right! (A clap of his hands.) We're 
off! (Jim goes first, MARGE next, then AL and FRED 
together, then Nettie and Liu together. As the 
whole group moves toward hall.) Now, get this ear- 
ful! The bunch’ll be at the li’l old Congress. 

Lit. Well, how are you going to 
get down? 

Nettie. We'll take the L. It’s 
quicker, anyhow. ly 

Marce. We'll wait until half past 
nine. Half past nine. (Together) 

Au. And if there’s any new dope 
we'll give you a buzz. (The group ts 
out in hall, still talking. You hear Au 
saying:) Now I'll ring you. 

MarceE. Now, don’t be foolish! 

Lit. Come on, come on. We'll get out and leave 
them alone. 

Jim. Now look here, Daisy and George were go- 
ing to call up. If they do 

FreD. We'll get their call if you miss them. 

Nettie. Well, maybe you’d better ring us up. 

Jim. What was the name of the place, Marge? 

Marce. Keystone. 

Nettiz. Ike Bloom’s. 

Jim. House That Jack Built. 

Frep. Milwaukee Avenue Road. 

Lit. Chicken supper. 

Au. George got the drinks—— 





[The stage ts bare for an instant after they go, with 
the chatter continuing in the hall. Minick en- 
ters, as group goes mto hallway, with a ham- 
mer and screw-driver. His entrance 1s a little 
diffident. Goes above table. Flings hammer 
and screw-driver on the polished table. Stoops 
a little, stiffly, removes the lamp shade and puts 





: 
| 
| 
| 
: 
: 
| 
| 


MINICK 43 


it on table. It rolls on sofa. Peers even more 
closely then before; unscrews a bulb; jerks the 
chain again. Picks up screw-driver, gives it a 
couple of light taps with the hammer. The 
farewells in the hall have died down, then 
ceased. FRED slams the outer door at first tap 
of Mrnicx’s hammer, NETTIE reénters fol- 
lowed by FRED. ] 


NETTIE. (Comes a little way into the room, sees 
MINICK, stops a second) Father Minick! What 
are you doing? 


[Crosses to L. side of table to see what MINIcK ts 
doing. | 


Minicx. I’m fixing your lamp. 
NetTic. But you mustn’t—Fred! 


[| Appeals to her husband. | 


Frep. (Comes to Rr. of Minick) Don’t bother, 
Dad. We'll have it fixed. 

Nettie. Father, where did you get 
put the shade back on, will you, please? 

Minick. (feaching for shade) Ill do it. 

Nettie. No, Father. You sit down. Whatever 
made you—lI’ve sent for the man to fix it. 





Fred, 


[Nettie takes screw-driver. | 


Minick. Man nothing! Glad to do it for you. 
Been fixing things all my life. (Crosses R. to D.R.) 
Say, I can do more with a hammer and a couple of 
nails than most these fellas can with a whole tool 
chest. 

NettTi£. Father, we have a man who does every- 
thing like that for us. A regular man. Now, I 
want you to promise me that you’re not going to—— 


Ad MINICK 


Minicx. No trouble. I like to putter around. A 
nail here, a nail there. 


[Frep is now putting shade and bulb on lamp.]| 


NETTIE. Oh (Crosses to MinicK and gets 
hammer. Turns desperately to her husband.) Frep! 





[Exits with hammer and screw-driver into passage. | 


Minick. What’s the matter with her? 

Frep. (At sofa, replacing shade) Nettie likes 
everything just so around the house. 

Minick. Wasn’t hurting anything. (A little 
pause. MINICK goes up to window and stands look- 
ing out—sulking a little. Yawns.) Whyn’t you 
and Nettie go along with the rest of ’em? 

Frep, Well—we'll see. 


[NETTIE reénters—to lower end above table.]| 


Minicx. No sense in your staying around here. 
I’m going to bed anyhow. Going right away. 

Nettig, (Alertly) Oh, are you? 

Frep. (Zakes MInIcKk’s arm and attempts to 
maneuver him into chair) No, he’s not. Now, 
we're going to sit down here, the three of us, and 
have a good talk. 

Minick. (Still at window, facing away from 
them) I’m not going to let you stay home with 
me. You got your evening planned out. Take care 
of m’self. I can take care of m’self fine. 

FreD. (Crosses and sits in armchair D.R.) Well, 
we may go after awhile. Sit down. Tell us. How’s 
everybody in Bloomington? Sit down, Nettie. 
(NETTIE stands lower end of sofa.) Father, sit 
down. 


| 
. 





MINICK 48 


[Minick isn’t deceived. He gives a quick look, pulls 
out his watch.| 


Minick. I’m going to bed in two minutes. 
NETTIE. (Grasps at this) Ill hurry Annie up. 
(Goes to passage door.) Annie! (Aside.) The 
water’s running—Annie! Are you almost finished? 
ANNIE. (Off) N’yeh! 


[Or nearly that. It is really a combination of yes 
and a snarl.| 


Nettice. (Yo Minick) She’s nearly finished. 
Then you can go back. 


[Sits again, lower end of sofa.] 


Frep. Now, he’s not going to bed yet—are you, 
Dad ? 

Minick. Yes,I am. I want you to keep on just 
the same as if I wasn’t here. 

Frep. (With obvious effort at conversation) Tell 
me, whatever become of that Brettschneider boy I 
used to run around with? Remember—lI told you 
about him, Nettie. Whatever became of him, Dad? 

Minick. (Strolling to NETTIE’s desk and peers 
into picture over it) I was going to bed anyhow. 
You folks run along. 

FreD. Oh, now, Dad. 

Nettie. Well, now, maybe Father Minick does 
want to go to bed, Fred? 

Frep. (Relieved) Well, if you’re sure, Dad, that 
it’s all right 

Minick. ’Course it’s all right. You go right out 
and enjoy yourself. 

NettTic. (Rising) I'll get my things on. 





[Goes quickly to the passage door and exits. MIN- 
Ick turns to desk and jerks lamp cham ner- 
vously. | 


46 MINICK 


Frep. (Going above Minick, and places his 
hands on Mintcx’s shoulders) Dad, you know how 
awfully glad we are to have you here, don’t you? 


[There comes a look in the old man’s face unseen 
by Frep, a look of something resembling terror. 
A piteous look. It says, “So this is what my 
old age has brought me!’ | 


Minick. It’s awfully nice of you and Nettie to 
do it. I guess I’m making a good deal of bother, 
coming in on you like this. 

Frep. Why, Dad! Not a bit. 

Minick. I know. But you and Nettie got your 
own way of doing things. And—I know. 


[ NETTIE, her coat and hat on, comes into the dining- 
room and puts out the light there.| 


Frep. (With a hearty slap on the back) You 
don’t know anything of the kind. It’s going to be 
fine. You’re going to like it and so are we. 


[ NETTIE enters the room. | 


Nettie. (Puts out light m standard lamp by 
easy chair) What? 

Frep. I was just telling Dad how happy we are 
to have him. 

NETTIE. (Goes to front of MINICK, sits on desk 
chair and pats his hand. FRrRep ts L. of MINIcK) 
Of course. We're awfully happy, Father Minick. 
And we want you to feel that this is your home, 
and that what we want to do is to make you happy 
and comfortable. 

Minick. I'll be all right. I'll be all right. Don’t 
you worry about me. (Crossing L.) You children 
go on, now. 





MINICK ee 


[He sits on sofa, takes “Vanity Fair” off table and 
pretends to read.| 


Nettie. Now is there anything you want, Father? 
Minick. I got everything I want. I’m fixed up. 


[FreD crosses to hall, gets his coat and hat.] 


Nettie. (Turns out desk lamp) Annie’s put- 
ting on her things now. She'll be out of your way 
in one minute. All right, Fred? 

Frep. (Comes back a few steps into the room) 
Yes, I guess so. Now, you are all right, Dad? 
You know, I’d just as soon not go... 

Minick. (With a wave of his hand) Shoo! 
O’ course you go! 

FreD. Well 

NettizE. Well, good-night then, Father. 

Minick. Good-night—have a good time. 

NETTIE. (Crosses to him and kisses him) See 
you in the morning. And you’ll turn out the other 
lights in here, won’t you? And just leave the hall 
light on. Don’t forget. 





[FRED crosses to doorway.| 


Frep. (Turns and almost bumps NETTIE at door- 
way) Good-bye, Father. How about a nice walk 
tomorrow morning, you and I? 

Minick. Sure—we’ll have big times. 

Nettie. Good-night. 


[ Exrits.] 
Frep. (Lingeringly) Good-night. 
[ Exits. ] 


Minick. Good-night. (The outer door slams; 
the old man rises and throws down his magazine; 


48 MINICK 


he walks awmlessly toward the hall; then he turns 
toward the window, cups his eyes and peers into 
the darkness outside in the hope of seeing them 
depart. He comes c., mutters to himself, “Well, 
sir!” starts toward table lamp and turns tt out, then 
down to desk lamp which he lights; sees card cata- 
logue, sits in armchair and takes out a few cards, 
replacing them obviously in the wrong places; then 
takes off his boots; his feet are twed and he com- 
mences to stretch them, reminds him of Au, and 
he laughs, rises and tries to imitate Av’s dance, sing- 
ing “Popper loves mommer, mommer loves popper.” 
This being too much for him, he comes c. and 
hears a noise in the kitchen; crosses L. and sees 
ANNIE in passage.) Oh, hello! 

ANNIE. (Enters, carrying some bundles, a suit 
case, alarm clock, umbrella and wisp of palm; she 
is dressed for the street, and starts to cross R., never 
stopping for him) Im goin’ now. 

Minick. (He gets behind and trots along right 
after her) Forgot all about you bein’ here. Been 
packing up your things, I suppose? 

ANNIE. Yes. I’m goin’ now. 

Minick. (Sociably) Live far from here? 

ANNIE. Yeh. 


[She keeps right on to the outer door.]| 


Minick. (Following to hallway door) Take the 
L, do you? L’s quicker than the surface car. Yes- 
sir! (The outer door slams. ANNIE is gone.) 
Much—quicker. I came up on the L (Musing 
to himself.) Yessir! I came up on the L. 





[Gets his boots, turns out lamp D.R., ambles across, 
extis up passage, closing his door; the clock 
strikes nine. | 


CURTAIN 


ACT TWO 


ScENE: Same as Act I, about six months later. A 
November afternoon. The time is about two- 
thirty. LuLa, a colored maid, is between sofa 
and table wiping table legs, humming a spiritual 
tune. She 1s leaning over so that her face can- 
not be seen. Several pieces of furniture are 
out of place sn the room. There is a dust pail 
at L. edge of table; a broom and carpet sweeper 
lean against armchair v.R.; the sofa pillows are 
in the chair u.R. of desk; one window shade is 
out of alignment; telephone stool is upside 
down on desk chair. 


MINIcK enters from passage. He is dressed 
in the attire of a semi-invalid who is not going 
out again that day. He wears loose bedroom 
slippers. Around his neck 1s an article that 
might be a muffler and might be a large colored 
silk handkerchief. He has a heavy cold and has 
to snifie now and then. On these occasions he 
pulls a large handkerchief from his pocket. He 
crosses to L.C. 


Minick. Thought I heard Nettie. Was it Nettie? 
Lua. (Straightens up) No, sir. 


[Tugging at upper end of sofa to replace tt.] 


Minick. (Dissappointed) Oh! (Makes as though 
to help her, pushing up lower end of sofa to table.) 
Here! (She pushes sofa, catching him between tt 

49 


50 MINICK 


and table; in getting out he stumbles over dust pail; 
he comes below table to u.r. LULA crosses to desk 
and arranges articles on it.) She'll be coming back 
soon, won’t she? 

Lua. I s’pose so. 

Minick. What time’d she go? 

Luta. (Wipes and replaces telephone stool) I 
told you she went just before you come in. 

Minick. Then she ought to come back soon— 
(Snittles.)—1f she’s going to get here. (LuLA does 
not reply to this.) Yessir! Ought to come back 
soon. It’s half past— (Sneezes.) two. 

Lua. (Now gathers up pail after she has 
rrossed L. and goes into passage as she speaks) I 
told you you shouldn’t have gone downtown this 
weather. Look at you cold. 


[Leaves the pail, dust pan and whisk broom in 
passage. | 


Minick. (Sits chair just above desk) Stay 
nome for a little cold! Sick of staying home. 

Lua. (fReénters briskly and goes above table to 
where he is sitting) Going to keep you in the house 
another four days—that’s what it is. (She pulls 
cushions from under MINIck, who rises, and re- 
places them on sofa.) Mrs. Minick she was awful 
mad when she discovered you gone out. Blamed me 
for it. 

Minick. Guess I’m old enough to know if I can 
go out or not. 

Luia. (Still arranging pillows and sofa) Don’t 
know no more’n a child. Have to keep after you 
like you was a baby all the months I been here. 
‘What you go out for anyway, feeling like you 
do? 

Minick. (Very high-toned; a few steps toward 
her) Il tell you something, m’girl, There may 





MINICK 51 


be some pretty important developments out of my 
going downtown this morning. 
LuLa. (Unimpressed) Yah! ’Velopments! 


[Crosses R., sees pm on floor by armchair, picks it 


up. | 


Minick. (Following) Some pret-ty important 
de-velopments. Yessir! Yessir! May take a good 
deal of business acumen to handle it. There’s sev- 
eral angles and I’m not sure which angle to take. 
(LULA is crossing R. with broom and sweeper, plac- 
ing them against lower edge of table, going above 
table and pushing easy chair in proper place.) That’s 
why I want to see Nettie. 

Lua. (Crossing D.R. to smoking table) You 
better let her alone today. 

Minick. That’s all right. She’ll listen to this. 
We've got to put our heads together. Yessir! 


[LuLa has moved smoking table from its accus- 
tomed place to in front of armchair, removes 
articles on it to bookcase and takes from the 
latter an elaborate gavel with silver inset. | 


Lua. I tell you you better not go bothering her 
today with her meetin’ on. 

Minick. Yeh—meeting! What’s a_ meeting! 
If she’s got a meeting what’s she doing out so long 
for? 

[Is just L. of desk.] 


Lua. She had to go for sandwich stuff. I told 
you once. She didn’t know she was going to have 
this meeting— (Blows on silver inset of gavel and 
polishes it, placing it on smoking table.) —till an 
hour ago. It was going to be over at some other 
lady’s house. (Starts up for window to straighten 
shade.) ‘Wisht it’d stayed there. 


52 MINICK 


Minick. (Wandering v.L. to smoking table) 
Well, don’t seem to me much sense in holding a lot 
of women’s meetings when— (Sees gavel on table; 
picks it up.) —when there’s things a million times— 
(Reads inscription on silver inset; LULA goes R. 
above table.) —more— (LULA 1s picking up her 
broom and carpet sweeper as DIETENHOFER rings the 
doorbell.) Ill let ’em in. 


[Puts down gavel with decision, and starts to door. | 


Lua. (Stopping dead in her tracks) You mean 
them friends of yours coming this house again 
today! 

Mrintcx. (Turning in hall door) Like to know 
why not! 

Luria. After me just cleanin’ up and Mrs, Min- 
ick expectin’ her meetin’? They been coming here 
three days hand-running. 

Minick. Entitled to have company, ain’t I? 
Too cold to sit in the park. 


[The doorbell rings again. Minick starts tuto 
hallway. | 


Luta. Yah, company. What you do—sit around, 
talk your fool heads off. 


[Starts to go and then decides to wait and see who 
it is.] 

Minick. (Off) Gentlemen, come in! 

DIETENHOFER. (Off) Well, Minick, how are 
you? 

Price. (Off) Afternoon. 

DIETENHOFER. (Off) The cold any better? 

Minick. (Off) I think it’s breaking up. I 
was downtown this morning. 

Price. (Off) Bad weather to be out in. 


MINICK 53 


[DIETENHOFER, a man of about MINIcxK’s age, 
comes into the room to R.c. He wears rubbers 
and overcoat, and has a hat on. He is unwind- 
ing along muffler, The voices of Minick and 
PRICE continue in the hallway. | 


DIETENHOFER. (To the glaring Luta) Hello. 

Lua. (Pointing to his rubbers) I just clean 
this room and Mrs. Minick going to have a meeting. 

DIETENHOFER. (Looking down questioningly) 
Huh? 

Lua. I say, I wish you leave them rubbers in 
the hallway, day like this. Took me hour cleaning 
up after you yesterday. 

DIETENHOFER. Oh! 


[He turns to go, crossing PRicE who comes R.c., fol- 
lowed by Minicx.] 


Lua. (Potnting to Price’s feet) You got ’em 
on too. ! 


[Price is another old gentleman, wears overshoes, 
etc. He is struggling with Mis overcoat. 
DIETENHOFER goes into hall and removes his 
rubbers. | 


Minick. Yes, sir, I guess we won’t sit out in the 
park much more this year. (Notices that Lua is 
pointing at Price’s feet.) Now what’s the matter? 

Lua. I ask that other gentleman please leave his 
rubbers in the hallway. 

Minicx. (Jo Price) She’s just cleaned up— 
sort of fussy. 


[Price nods, walks on his heels u.L. corner and re- 
moves coat and hat. DIETENHOFER reénters, 
rubbers off, and seeing PRICE removing his coat, 


84. MINICK 


starts to take his owm off; he looks for a place © 
to put his coat and selects the window seat, but 
he keeps his hat on.]| 


Luria. All I got say is you wait till Mrs. Minick 
comes back 

Minick. That’s all right. 

Luta. She going to be awful mad, find you here 
today. 





[Exits into passage.| 


Price. (Coming down to Minick) What did 
she say? . 

Minick. Nettie’s got some clubwomen coming or 
something, but we got lots of time. 

Price. Sure—lI got time. 


[Crossing D.R. to armchair, sits.] 


DIETENHOFER. (Taking out his pipe and cross- 
éng D.L.) Women are always doing something now- 
adays. My time they stayed home and tended to 
things. 

[Sits on sofa.] 


Price. Not today. It’s the Unrest. 

Minick. (Sits chair u.r. of desk, puts his feet 
up on desk chair) Yep. Fixing this and fixing 
that. (Sntfiles, takes out his handkerchief; Price 
takes off his rubbers and throws them in the hallway; 
DIETENHOFER fills his pipe, shaking the tobacco out 
of the pouch and spilling a good deal on the carpet. 
With the manner of one opening a meeting.) Well, 
sir! What’s the good word? 

DIETENHOFER. Oh-o-o-h, about the same, I 
guess. Everything’s about the same as yesterday. 
Yep! How’s it with you? 


[Strikes match and lights pipe.] 


MINICK Bs 


Minick. Oh-oh-oh, not much different. How 
about you, Price? 

Price. Oh-oh-oh, so so. Not much of one thing 
or the other. | 


[Takes out his pipe.] 


Minick. Anything new over to the Home today? 

DIETENHOFER. No—nothing special. Nothing 
special. (Throws his burnt match under sofa; 
PrIcE now knocks his pipe bowl against smoking 
table, spilling the heel on the carpet, then brings out 
large clasp-knife from pocket and opens it leisurely.) 
Not smoking, Minick? 

Minick. No. Don’t taste like anything when you 
got a cold. 

Price. How ts your cold? 

Minick. Well, if the weather’d let up—— 

DIETENHOFER. Weather’s pretty bad, all right. 

MINIck. Yes, sir—regular November. (Sniffles.) 
It’s November, all right. 

DIETENHOFER. Tha’s what. 

Minick. Yes, sir! It’s November. 

DIETENHOFER. Yep. 

Minick. Yessir! (A short pause. PRICE grinds 
in his pipe with the knife.) Cut over through the 
park, did you? 


[Price has succeeded in loosening his pipe ashes; he 
looks around for a place to put them, sees a 
fancy vase on the bookcase, rises and gets tt.] 


DIETENHOFER. Yah. Pretty wet, too. 
Minick. I was downtown this morning, though. 
DIETENHOFER. You don’t say? How was it? 


[Looking at window. | 


Minick. Bad. Yes, sir—bad. 


56 MINICK 


[Price clinks his pipe against vase, and then places 
it on the floor by chair.| 


DIETENHOFER. (Rising) Blackening up in the 
West again. Means more rain. (Crosses to 
Price.) What did I tell you this morning, Price? 
Watch the West, I says—that’s where she comes 
from. [He takes Price up to the window. | 

MINIcK. (Rises, goes up) Turn to snow most 
likely. ‘That’s November for you. 


[DIETENHOFER snaps up window shade so that he 
may see more clearly; PRICE goes to center 
window and snaps up its shade, which rolls 
around furiously. | 


DIETENHOFER. Ya—I guess you were right, 
Minick. Going to turn to snow. No more sitting 
out in the park this year. 


[Turning away a bst.] 


Minick. Well, we set out pretty late at that. 
October. 
[Turning to him.] 


DIETENHOFER. October the 28th. 

Minick. Guess I set out too late. That’s where 
I caught my cold. 

DIETENHOFER. Well, a fellow can get a cold that 
way. Yep! 

Minick. I did, all right. Yessir! 

Price. (Who has been gazing out of window) 
Say—there’s a right pretty girl going along. 


[The others look.] 


DIETENHOFER. That’s right. 
Minick, ‘Trim figure, too, 


MINICK 57 


Price. She’s stopping for something. (A pause.) 
No—she’s going ahead. 

DIETENHOFER. Stopping again. 

Price. No. She’s going. 


[Watches her a second; Min1cx goes below Price. ] 


Minick. There she goes! Down the street. 
Down the street. (His voice takes on distance; 
Price returns to his chair. Municx ts back of chair, 
and resumes his seat at end of speech.) Pretty busy 
street, all right. Lots of people go by. You know 
how many automobiles I counted in an hour yester- 
day! Two hundred and fifty-six! Sitting right 
there. 

DIETENHOFER. (Has been crossing to sofa; sits) 
Wa-a-a-l, won’t be so many from now on. Winter’s 
coming on now, all right. Be May before we can 
sit out again. Yep! 

Minick. Yessir! May! May’s a long time off. 
Pretty hard knowing what to do between now and 
then. 

DIETENHOFER. That’s right. Winter’s a bad 
time. 

Minick. Yessir! With the park gone it’s go- 
ing to be pretty hard to fill in the time. I was think- 
ing about it this morning. 

Price. You got a nice place here. 


[Sirskes match and lights cigar.] 


Minick. Winter’s a long time. Besides, gen- 
erally folks in this room—company—one thing an- 
other. I’ve got my own room—but you can’t do 
much of anything there. 

DiETENHOFER. Oh, I don’t know. There’s al- 
ways something to do. 

Minick. Well, of course you can take a walk, 


58 MINICK 


but you got to walk pretty brisk, weather like this. 
Generally get a good nap after lunch, though. Then 
—one thing another comes up. First thing you 
know, it’s six o’clock. Fred comes home with the 
evening paper. Some news in that as a rule. Then, 
after supper, I’m generally pretty tired, anyhow. 
Once in a while, though, Fred and I have a little 
game of dominoes before they go out. 

DIETENHOFER. The big room over to the Home 
is pretty nice in winter. 

Price. Get your pinochle game there. 

DIETENHOFER. That’s what. Too bad they don’t 
let visitors play over there, Minick. We got some 
pretty smart pinochle heads. There’s Garvey— 
Henderson—Schultz 

Price. D’you know what Henderson held last 
night! A five hundred hand! 

Minick. Gosh! 

DIETENHOFER. Only bid four-fifty on it. 

Minick. Probably picked up something. 

Price. Just twenty. 





[Takes out paper and starts to read.| 


DIETENHOFER. Yep. We have great times. 
They look out for your comfort over there pretty 
nice, Minick. They’re paid to do it. Catch me 
going any place where I didn’t pay my way. 

Minick. Well, I like to pay my way myself. 

DIETENHOFER. They make you feel like some- 
body over to the Grant Home. A club, that’s what 
it’s like. A club, and may be a vacancy soon, too. 
Old Patterson’s talking about going out to Los 
Angeles with a nephew or something. 

Price. Expecting word any minute. 

Minick. No, sir! My son wouldn’t hear of it. 
an nor his wife, neither. Nettie wouldn’t hear 
of it. 


MINICK 59 


DiIETENHOFER. I wouldn’t live any other way. 
You’re free. They got their rules, but outside of 
that you’re free. You’re never your own boss liv- 
ing the other way. Price here was through it. 
Weren’t you, Price? 

Price. What? 

DIETENHOFER. You were living with your da’ter 
before you come to the Home. (Turns to MINICK.) 
Four children, she had. 

Price. “Pa, don’t do this. Pa, don’t do that.” 
Nossir ! 

DIETENHOFER. I’ve seen it. Seen it often. 

Price. And running errands. “Spool of white 
No. 100.” “Half a pint of double whippin’ cream.” 
“Ten cent loaf of gluten bread.” And taking babies 
out wheelin’ all the time. 

DIETENHOFER. Hear all this talk nowadays about 
young folks. Old folks has some rights time I was 
a boy. 

Minick. Babies out wheelin’! Well, I guess 
that’s one thing I won’t ever have to do here. 
Blamed if I can understand what they’re aiming at, 
these young people. I’m going to talk to Nettie 
about it—some day. 

DIETENHOFER. Times are changing, that’s all. 

Price. It’s the Unrest. 

Minick. Club meetings. Worrying about other 
people’s children, instead of having some of their 
own. (Rises and goes down to smoking table.) 
Club meetings, like the one she’s got coming here 
today (Takes gavel, and hands it to DIETEN- 
HOFER who has risen.) Here it is—that’ll show you. 

DIETENHOFER. (Reading inscription on silver 
plate) ‘Presented to Nettie B. Minick by her fel- 
low members of the Home Relations Committee, 
Woman’s Civic Aid, June 14, 1922.” (Weighs the 
gavel in his hand. ) Nice piece of wood, all right. 
Regular mahogany. 





60 MINICK 


Price. (Rises and goes to R. of Minick) Let 
me see it. (Gauges its weight in his hand.) More 
like teak. That’s what it is—teakwood. 


[Minick takes it, weighs it, hands it to DIETEN- 
HOFER, who also weighs it skeptically. PRICE 
returns to his seat. | 


DIETENHOFER. Well, maybe. (Taps pipe wunth 
gavel, returns to his seat and drops gavel on sofa.) 
Heigh-ho! 


[Minick returns to his chair; there ts a slight 
pause. | 


Price. (Resuming his reading) I see where the 
sun’s coming out tomorrow. 


[Knocks ashes off cigar into vase; some fall on 
floor. | 


Minick. That so? 

Price. (Reading) “Official Weather Forecast. 
Cloudy today; fresh northerly winds.” 

Minick. That’s what they are. 

Price. “Tomorrow fair. Temperature yester- 
day: Highest, 43, 3.45 P. M.; lowest, 34, 9 A. M.” 

Minick. (Pulling out watch) It’s five minutes 
to three now. 

DIETENHOFER. (Also takes out huge watch) 
Seven minutes. There’s a clock. 

Minick. (Not even looking at it) Ain’t going. 
I set mine this morning by the Wrigley Building. 
It’s now exactly—(Waits for a second.)—four and 
a half minutes to three. 

DIETENHOFER. No, sir—you’re fast. 

Minick. I ain’t had this watch in a repair shop 
in eight years. That’s what I think of it. 

DIETENHOFER. Well, you’re fast, just the same. 


MINICK 61 


[ Falls to puffing again; Minicx sniffles ; PRICE turns 
a page of the newspaper. | 


Price. The world of finance. 

Minick. How’s it going? 

Price. “Rails stand firm as market sags.” 

Minick. Yeh? Well, I ain’t bullish on rails. 

DIETENHOFER. Market’s been pretty good lately. 
A fella coulda made a tidy sum just knowing what 
to go into and when to go into it. 

Minick. We-e-ell, I don’t fool around with 
stocks, much. Rather have a nice piece of property 
than all your stocks and new-fangled businesses. 

DIETENHOFER. N-n-n-yeh! Ties up your money. 

Minick. Well, better than putting it in some 
wildcat business and losing it. (Rises.) If I was 
so minded I could tell you two gentlemen a case in 
point that I just found out about this morning. 
And I think it’s a big mistake! 

DIETENHOFER. What case was that? 

Minick. M-m-m-m—it’s pretty confidential. 
But I don’t know but what your advice might not 
be valuable. You’re both business men of experi- 
ence. 

DIETENHOFER. I want you just to consider me at 
your service. 


[A large gesture. They shift a bit in their chairs, 
rather importantly. | 


Minick. Well, sir! It’s like this. (Takes desk 
chair and draws 1t over to DIETENHOFER.) What 
do you gentlemen think of the mail order business 
—as a business? 


[Price draws his chair over to them, dropping his 
paper on the floor. | 


DIETENHOFER. Do you mean from the aspect of 
an investment ?. 





62 MINICK 


Minick. No, sir! I mean as a business to go 
into. 

DIETENHOFER. Well, yes and no, is what I say. 

Price. Somebody gone into it? 

Minick. Somebody! My son, Fred, that’s who! 

DIETENHOFER. You don’t say! 

Minick. Yessir! And I’ve got to stop him 
before it’s too late. 

Price. How far have things gone? 

Minick. Just started up, near’s I can find out. 
Fred’s never said boo about it around the house. 
Not even to Nettie, I don’t think. She wouldn’t 
a let him do it, either. 

DIETENHOFER. Tell us about it. 

Minick. Well, here I’d been cooped up in the 
house four days now. So this morning I got up, 
my cold was quite some better—Nettie was out 
doing something—so I says to myself, I says, “T’ll 
just jump on the L and go down and say hello to 
Fred. Freshen me up!” So I goes down there. 
Big place full of desks and one of them smart 
Alecks asking you who do you want to see and have 
you got an appointment. I made short work of 
him. ‘Listen,’ I said, “I’m Fred Minick’s father. 
Which one’s his office?” By that time he looked 
pretty scared. And I’d marched right in, too, only 
he says pretty wilty by now, “Mr. Minick ain’t in,” 
he says. “He’s over at his other place.” Well, at 
that I smelled a rat right away. “Oh,” I says, “he 
is, is he?’ And this young sprat says, “Yes, he’s 





always over there mornings.” I never let on. 
“That’s so!” I says. “Let’s see, now. That num- 
ber’s two sixty—uh ” (Turns to Price.) “It’s 


the Monadnock Building,” the kid says. “I don’t 
know the number.” 
Price. Good work! } Tienes 
DiIETENHOFER. Did you find it? (Together) 
Minick. (A gesture that means “Leave it to 


MINICK 63 


me!) Marched right up to the elevator fella and 
says, “Party name of Minick got offices here?” 
“Eleven-seventeen,’ he says. (Jmitates the man’s 
tone.) And sure enough, there it was painted on 
the door: “Twentieth Century Mail Order Com- 
pany.” And down underneath, “Frederick Minick 
—James J. Corey!’ That’s a friend of his. 

Price. Two of them! 

DiETENHOFER. Did you goin? 

Minick. Had my hand on the door when I says 
to myself, “No! I want to see Nettie first about 
this.” Fred’s a funny boy. Got to handle him just 
so. Ever since he was a youngster. So! That’s 
the situation in a nutshell, gentlemen, and I would 
certainly appreciate having your advice. 

DIETENHOFER. Well, now that you’ve laid all the 
facts before me—I don’t know, but I will say this, 
here and now. If you take two young fellas inex- 
perienced 





[ Nettie’s key is heard in the outer door. | 


Minick. Here’s Nettie now. (Rises. NETTIE 
enters carrying two bundles, one a loaf of bread, the 
other a smaller bundle. Elaborately casual.) Hello, 
Nettie! 


[DIETENHOFER and PRicE rise. NETTIE stops short 
as she sees the old man. A quick look takes in 
the disorder of the rooms.]| 


Nettie. Oh, Father! What are you——! I told 
you not 





[Her look and gesture express more than her words. 
Picks up vase and puts it on bookcase.| 


Minick. (Explaining) Well, Mr. Dietenhofer 
and—— 
[Price is r. of MInicx.] 


64 MINICK 
Nettie. It was all right yesterday, and—but—— 
[Picks up newspapers and exits to passage. | 


DIETENHOFER. We only came in to keep Mr. 
Minick here—— 

Nettic. Lula! Lula! Of course I was glad to 
have you sit with Father Minick this week, but 
today—(LuLa enters from the passage.)—Lula, 
take these. (Stuffs newspapers into her hands.) 
No, wait a minute! (Gives her the two bundles.) 
That’s for the sandwiches—and hurry. I’m ter- 
ribly late—I thought I’d never get (As LuLa 
goes.) And bring in the dust pan and whisk broom. 
(During the next few speeches NETTIE ts flying 
about the room in a desperate effort to set it to 
rights before her guests arrive; takes gavel from 
sofa, replaces it on smoking table.) Of course I 
know it’s been hard on you, Father, being in—but 
just today—(Pulls armchair in place.) —so incon- 
venient—my whole committee Come tomorrow 
—come Thursday—come any other day! I’d be only 
too glad (Takes desk chair and replaces it; goes 
around them to table; they turn completely around 
watching her; she hands DIiETENHOFER hits hat.) 
Father, I did tell you I had some women coming 
today, didn’t I! (As she hands the hat to DiETEN- 
HOFER.) Here! 

Minick. Well, well! Nothing to fuss about! 

Nettiz. Nothing to fuss about! Look at this 
room! Lula! 











[Goes L. to passage. | 


DIETENHOFER. ‘Well, ma’am, I assure you we’ve 
got our own place to go to 


[A step R.] 





Nettizc. Lula! 
Price. Maybe you want us to go? 


en 
wn 
© 
o0 
S 
AY 
© 
v) 
Y 





LIBRARY 
OF THE 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 





MINICK 6s 


[LuLA enters from passage, carrying dust pan and 
whisk broom.] 


Netric. Here! Give me those. You go ahead 
with the sand Why, you haven’t your uniform 
on! 

Lua. Hain’t had time yet. I been 

Nettie. Well, go ahead. Don’t talk! It’s after 
three now! (Lua goes. NETTIE calls.) And 
don’t forget to cut them very thin! 








[Kneels with dust pan and whisk broom in front of 
sofa. | 


Minick. I'll do that for you. 

Nettie. No, Father. You can help your friends 
on with their things. 

DIETENHOFER. It’s all right. Don’t trouble your- 
self. We can put them on. 

Minick. (Eagerness in his tone) Coming 
around again tomorrow? I'll be here. 

DIETENHOFER. Well, we'll be pretty busy to- 
morrow. 

[Goes up and gets his coat.]| 


Minick. Well— 

Nettie. (Crossing R. and whisking up ashes by 
armchair) And another thing. I was furious 
when I came home and found you were out. You 
weren't fit to go out. | 

Minick. Well, it’s a good stroke I went. And 
I want to talk to you. 


[ Snifiles. | 


Nettie. Well, you see what happened—your 
cold’s worse. (Brushing at Pricr’s feet.) Your 
coat’s up there, Mr.—uh 

Prick. Huh? Oh! 








66 MINICK 


[Moves at last up to easy chair; he and DIETEN- 
HOFER struggle with their coats and mufilers.| 


Nettie. Lula! Lula! 


[Crosses L. and exits into passage with broom and 


pan. | 


DIETENHOFER. (Crossing D.L. to Minick) Pretty 
high strung, ain’t she? 

Minick. She don’t mean anything. 

DIETENHOFER. Well—they don’t ever mean any- 
thing, but—just the same 





[Starts R.] 


Price. (Coming pv.R. of MinicK and touching hss 
arm) I had it. 

DIETENHOFER. (Turning at door) You mull 
it over in your mind just in case that vacancy does 
happen to 

NETTIE. (Reéntering) Are you all ready? 

DIETENHOFER. Well, Ma’am, I wish you good- 
day. 





[Extends his hand. | 
Nettiz. Good-bye. 


[Is compelled to take his hand; otherwise he won't 
go.| 


Price. (Also extending his hand) Good-bye. 
[She takes his hand; D1ETENHOFER crosses to door.] 


NeTtic. Good-bye. Father, would you mind 
bringing in a few chairs from the dining-room? 
(Minick starts for the dining-room; NETTIE quickly 
adds:) After you’ve seen your friends out! 


ee ee 


MINICK 67 


DIETENHOFER. (Stops, considers) Where did 
I put my rubbers? 
NetTTIE. (Now above v.L. end of table) They’re 
not in here. Perhaps you can put them on outside. 
DIETENHOFER. I know. They’re in the hall. 
Price. That’s so—they are. 


[They exit into hallway.] 


NETTIE. (Crossing above table to window, where 
she starts to straighten the shades) Father, you 
will get them out of here, won’t you? 

Minick. - What do you think I found out this 
morning ? 

NeEtTIE., I don’t know, Father. Tell me later. 

Minick. What do you think Fred’s done? 


[The noise of the old men stamping into ther 
rubbers is heard.| 


_ Nettie. Please, Father. The meeting’l! be start- 
ing. 

Minick. (Coming just above her) Fred’s gone 
into the business. 

Nettie. (Turns quickly) What! How do you 
know? Mail order! 

Minick. Yessir! And you and I got to stop 
him. 

[Crossing above table to D.L.]| 


NETTIE. But how do you know he’s gone into it? 
Who told you? 


[Comes below table to p.L.; R. of MINICK. ] 
Minick. Saw it on the door. Fred and Mr. 


Corey. 
Nettie. Where? What door? 


68 MINICK 


Minick. 1117 Monadnock Building. What’ll we 
do! 

Nettig. Monadnock Building—Father, tell me 
something. Did you ? 
_ DIETENHOFER. (eéntering) Well, we're go- 
ing. 

Price. (Reéntering and crossing to c.) Where's 
my newspaper? 

NetTT1E. What? 

Price. I want my newspaper. 

Nettie. What newspaper ? 

Price. My newspaper. Left it right here some 
place. 

NetTIE. Oh, please! Can’t you get another news- 

per! P 

Price. Get another? Only had this one an hour! 

NettTicE. (Almost beside herself, going near pas- 
sage) Lulu! Lulu! 

Minick. I'll get it. 

Nettie. No, Father, keep out of the kitchen! 





[LuLa, who has changed to her black dress, appears 
in passage door.| 


Luta. Huh? 

Nettie. Lula, get that newspaper I just (The 
doorbell rings. Her arms go out in a gesture to the 
heavens. She turns to Minicx.) Now there you 
are! Lula, answer the door. It’s them. No— 
wait! Get your apron on. (LULA vanishes into 
passage; NETTIE turns and sees that PRICE is stand- 
ing immovable.) Oh, I'll get your paper. (To 
Minick.) You’ve got me just all unstrung. 





[Dashes off into passage. MINiIcK comes above 
table to U.R.; DIETENHOFER discovers something 
the matter with one of his rubbers, and finds 
that he must sit down on desk chair to fix tt. 


MINICK 69 


PRICE sits on sofa. Luta, fastening her apron, 
enters D.L. and crosses. She discovers that 
the apron is wrong side out; reverses it; exits 
into the hall. Nettie follows on, bringing the 
newspaper, now merely a ball.] 





NetTicE. And now if you 
seated again.) Good heavens! 


(Sees they are 


[Price and DIETENHOFER rise, and she stuffs the 
paper into Price’s hands. | 


Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (Off) Good afternoon! 

NetticE. Now, Father, you see—here they are! 
(To the others.) Now you are going right out, 
aren't you? 


[ Mrs. SMALLRIDGE and Miss CRACKENWALD enter, 
followed by Luta.] 


Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Good afternoon! Well! Are 
we the first? 

Nettiz. How are you, Mrs. Smallridge! Miss 
Crackenwald! 

Miss CRACKENWALD. (Very crisp) Afternoon. 

Nettie. Lula, take the ladies’ things. 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (Beaming) Well, Mr. Min- 
ick! And how are you these duil November days! 
Manage to keep happy? 

Minick. Oh, I manage. 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. That’s good. 


[Luta has taken Miss CRACKENWALD’S coat.]* 


Miss CRACKENWALD. I’ll keep my hat on. 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (Jn the tone of one address- 
ing a small boy) I suppose these are friends of 
yours come to while away a rainy afternoon. I re- 
member when Mr. Smallridge’s poor dear father was 
with us, how he loved to have his friends in. My! 
Bright and active right up to the last day. 


70 MINICK 


Minick. (Expanding a little) Yes. Yessir! 
I’d like you to meet these gentlemen... Mr. 
Eugene Dietenhofer—Mrs.—uh 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Mrs. Smallridge. 

Minick. And Mr. J. W. Price. 

DIETENHOFER. Pleased to meet you. 

Price. Pleased to make your | ( Together) 
quaintance. 





[NETTIE #5 politely dying in the background.| 


Minick. (Not Re to tgnore the other guest) 
And this is Mrs. ... ? 

Miss CRACKENWALD. (Jcily) Miss Cracken- 
wald. 

Minick. Miss? 

Nettic. Oh! (To the others.) These gentle- 
men were just going. 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Well, I hope we aren’t chas- 
ing you away. Bundle up good and warm, It’s 
very penetrating out. 

Price. (Crossing to her, throws back his coat 
and displays a maroon sweater, with initial “C” on 
it) Never fear. Got M’ grandson’s sweater on. 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. That’s wise. You know Lake 
Michigan in November. 

DIETENHOFER. (Catches Miss CRACKENWALD’S 
eye) I always wear a good piece of old-fashioned 
flannel right inside my underwear. 


[Unbuttons part of his shirt to show this in tri- 
umph. Miss CRACKENWALD’S eyebrows go up 
slightly. | 


Nettic. I’m afraid I must ask you to go now. 
The meeting is going to get under way. 
DIETENHOFER. Well, good-bye. 


[Starts off.] 


MINICK 7 


Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Good-bye. 
Price. (Starts to cross Rr.) Well, I hope—— 


[He never finishes; NETTIE propels him out; Dizt- 
ENHOFER and PRICE go into the hall; Minick 
takes them to the door. NeEtTTIE turns to Miss 
CRACKENWALD with a little semi-exclamatson 
of apology and relief.| 


Nettie. Well—won’t you sit down? 

Miss CRACKENWALD, (Glances at her wrist 
watch, crosses to sofa and sits on upper edge) After 
three. Do they all know the meeting’s been shifted 
here? 

NettiE. I notified them. 


[The doorbell rings.]| 


Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (Crossing and sitting L. of 
Miss CRACKENWALD) Clara Whitney took sick 
very suddenly, didn’t she? This flu. Do you know 
I remarked the last time I saw her 

Lit. (Looks in from hall) Hello, Net! 

Nettie. Hello, Lil! Lula! 





[Beckons Luta to take Lit’s wraps. Liu enters; 
NETTIE sits in chair above desk.] 


Lit. How do you do, ladies? (A meaning look 
toward hall and then to NETTIE.) I see you’ve been 
entertaining. 


[Lua enters and crosses U.R. through dining-room 
and off. Lit sits in desk chair.]| 


Nettigz. Yes. I—TI hope no one’s been incon- 
venienced by the change in plans. 

Minick. (Reénters from hall and starts to st 
chair v.R.) Well! Starting to gather, huh? 


72 MINICK , 


NettTIE. (Checking him with her words) Father, 
you were going to bring in the chairs. 

Minick. All right. All right. (As he goes up 
to dining-room.) What’s the meeting about? 
Something important? 


[He exits into dining-room.| 
(Next three speeches spoken simultaneously) 


Miss CRACKENWALD. NETTIE. (Sotto voce 
I don’t see why people to Lit) Lil, I must talk 
can't be on time. I was_ to you. 
here on time and I’ve Lit. What’s the mat- 
had a very full calendar ter? 
today. And my head is 
simply splitting. 

Nettie. (ising) I’m so sorry. Why don’t 
you take your hat off and be comfortable? Go right 
back into my room. You'll find everything. (Cross- 
ing above table top.L.) Lula! 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. I’ll show her. (Riséng.) 
Don’t bother Lula. I know how it is. (Crossing 
D.L.) Why don’t you take an aspirin, Miss Crack- 
enwald? 

Miss CRACKENWALD. (Following her; stonily) 
I’ve had six. 


[They both exit into passage. MtINick enters from 
dining-room with two dining-room chairs and 
places them in front of sofa.]| 


NETTIE. (Crossing to Lit) Did you know the 
boys were in business? 


[Minick listens, chair in hand.] 


Lit. Business? 
Minicx. What you going to do about it? 


ae a Ti a ae Se 


MINICK rm 


NETTIE. (Silences him with a gesture) Did you 
know that Fred and Jim had gone ahead with that 
crazy mail order scheme? 

Lit. They haven't! 

Nettic. They have! 

Lit. I don’t believe it! How do you know? 

Minick. J found it out 

Nettie. Father Minick. Monadnock Building. 
Saw it on the door. 

Lit. What are you talking about? 

Netti£c. I’m telling you that Fred has probably 
taken every penny we’ye got in the world— (The 
doorbell rings.) —and dumped it into this—this 
idiotic 

Minick. Yessir! 

Lit. Then Jim has, too. Net, if he has 


[Mrs. SMALLRIDGE and Miss CRACKENWALD enter 
D.L., talking. Luta follows them on, crosses 
r. and exits into hallway. | 











Miss CRACKENWALD. (Comes in front of sofa) 
... in view of the rather exhaustive survey 
Still nobody else here? 

NetTIE. (Following Lua into hall) Here is 
someone now. 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (To Minick) Heljing to 
do your bit, I see. 

Minick. That’s two. Got two more. 





[Exits into dining-room above table, as Mrs. Lip- 
PINCOTT and Miss Stack enter from thr hall; 
LuLa takes and places their coats m hall.| Mrs. 
LippINcoTT is a general. Hers is the pxecu- 
tive mind. She thinks nationally. Herdream 
is an office in the General Federatin of 
Women’s Clubs. Miss Stack lobbies) Mrs. 
Lippincott. Mrs. SMALLRIDGE comes XC. and | 
sits on sofa D.L. end.| | 


74 MINICK 


Mrs. Lippincotr. How do you do, ladies! 
Miss Stack. How-do! 


[The other women return the greeting. LULA 
crosses back of ladies into dmtng-room and 


off. | 


Miss CRACKENWALD. We've been holding the 
meeting for you. 

Mrs. Lippincott. (She is about c.) I think you 
know, Miss Crackenwald, that if there’s one thing 
I pride myself on, it’s punctuality., Miss Stack and 
I had to go to Clara Whitney’s to learn that the 
meeting had been transferred here. 

Miss Stack. Mrs. Minick seems to have for- 
gotten to notify us. 

Nertic. But I did! I spent the morning tele- 
phoning. 


[Minick comes in above table with two more chairs 
and places them in front of sofa.]| 


Mrs. Lippincott. ‘That’s strange. My secre- 
tary is generally very reliable. 

Mis§ CRACKENWALD. I don’t think we should 
wait for the rest. 

Ms. SMALLRIDGE. Yes—let’s begin. 

Mis. Lippincott. I don’t know why we couldn’t 
havemet over at my house, as long as Clara Whitney 
was Sick. 

NéttTiE. Shall we start now? 

Mrs. Lipprncorr. How can we start without a 
quortm, Mrs. Minick? 

Nrrtic. That’s true. We haven’t, have we? 

Miss Stack. We have only six. Seven is a 
quorum. 

Lit.| Well, now I know Marge Diamond is com- 
ing. {an’t we sort of kind of start, meanwhile? 


| 


MINICK 75 


Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. I don’t think it would hurt, 
this once. I move that we go ahead and start. 

Lit. I second the motion. 

Mrs. Lippincott. You can’t introduce a motion 
until the meeting’s called to order. 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Then how are we going to 
start? 


[Minick is following all this with breathless inter- 
est, standing above table v.L. edge.| 


Nettic. What is your pleasure, ladies, in this 
matter? Mrs. Diamond is coming eventually. 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Isn’t there some way we can 
start? 

Mrs. Lipprncott. We could, under Section Five, 
Article Eight, suspend the rules with the unanimous 
consent of the assemblage. 


[Miss CRACKENWALD sits. From two of three of 
those assembled: “All right,’ “Yes? “Well, 
why don’t we?” | 


Minick. What’s the meeting going to be about, 
anyway? 


[They all look at him. A look from NETTIE to 
Lit that says “Help me!” A little buze of 
conversation in the group.| 


Nettic. Thanks for bringing in the chairs, 
Father. 

Minick. That’s all right, Nettie my girl. 

Lit. (Goes to him above table) Now, Mr. 
Minick, you don’t want to stay and listen to a lot 
of dull business, do you? Why don’t you take a 
nap? 

Minick. Just got up. (Crosses above her to 
u.R.) Don’t want to sleep my life away. 


76 MINICK 


Mrs. Lippincott. (Crosses and sits second chair 
from r.) I think we can begin now, Madam Chair- 
man! 


[Miss Stack sits L. of Mrs. Lippincott.] 


Nettiz. I shall call the meeting in a moment, 
Mrs. Lippincott. 


[Crosses to desk and gets note paper, then goes up 
to MINIcK.] 


Miss CRACKENWALD. It’s getting later and later. 

NettTicE. (To MInIck, in an undertone) Father, 
you don’t want to stay here, do you? 

Minick. [I like it here. 

Nettic. You'll have to be very quiet. 

Minick. I will. Quiet as a mouse. 


[Goes up to easy chair and sits.] 


Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (To Miss Stack) This is 
a pretty room, isn’t it? With the Park and all. 


[Liz sits chawr Rr. of table.] 


Miss Stack. Y-yes. 

NETTIE. (Sitting armchair D.R., taps three times 
with gavel) Ladies! (They are all attention.) The 
meeting will please come to order. The—uh—first 
business of the day is the reading of the minutes of 
the previous meeting. (Drops into sudden informal- 
ity.) Oh, Marge isn’t here. 

Miss CRACKENWALD. Why she was ever made 
secretary ! 

Nettic. We can defer the reading of the min- 
utes until Mrs. Diamond gets here. Is there any 
unfinished business ? 





MINICK we 


Mrs. Lippincott. (Leaps to her feet) Madam 
Chairman ! 

Nettie. Mrs. Lippincott? 

Mrs. Lippincott. I call for the orders of the 
day. I believe the chair is in error. 

NETTIE. Oh! 

Mrs. Lippincotr. Failing the reading of the 
minutes the next business is the Reports of Boards 
and Standing Committees, followed by Reports of 
Special Select Committees and Special Orders. 
Then, and not until then, comes Unfinished Business. 

Nettie, The Chair stands corrected. 


[Mrs. LipPIncoTT sits.] 


Minick. (Impressed) Gosh! 

NETTIE. (Consulting a paper) We'll have the 
sub-committee reports. The sub-committee on Play- 
grounds— (Her voice drops from its official note to 
an everyday tone.) Oh, that’s Clara Whitney, and 
of course she’s sick. . . . Well, then, the report of 
the sub-committee on Juvenile Delinquency— (Her 
voice drops again.) Now I talked to Emma Os- 
good over the phone this morning and she said she’d 
positively be here. Of course she lives way over 
north. 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Tries to do too much. 

Miss Stack. (Searching among her papers) 
Oh. Mrs. Osgood asked me to say that she will sub- 
mit her Juvenile Delinquency report at the next 
meeting— (Rises.) She has had some difficulty in 
verifying her statistics on— (Referring to her pa- 
per.) Group C, boys of fifteen and sixteen. 

Nettie. Oh—well—thank you. 


[Miss Stack séts.] 


Minick. (Rises and takes a step down) Say, 
I’ll tell you a good one on Fred time he was fifteen. 


8 MINICK 


Nettie. (Her finger to her lips, recalling his 
promise to be quiet) Father, remember you 
Minick. That’s right. That’s right. 





[ Sits. ] 


Nettie. ‘Well—‘‘sub-committee on Home Sur- 
vey ’—well, anyway, you’re here, Miss Crackenwald. 

Miss CRACKENWALD, I am. 

Nettiz. (A little buzz of talk has broken out) 
Ladies! We will now listen to 

Miss CRACKENWALD. (Rising) Madam Chair- 
man—lI was asked 








[The telephone rings. Miss CRACKENWALD pauses. | 


Nettiz. I’m awfully sorry. (Mrtnick half rises 
to answer; NETTIE waves him back. Into phone.) 
Hello !—Yes.—No, Mrs. Diamond’s not here. We’re 
waiting for her ourselves 

Mrs. Lippincott. (To Miss Stack) We're not 
getting anything done. 

NettTicE. (Junto phone) Her home? Don’t you 
know where she is? All right. Ill tell her to 
call you. (Hangs up and comes back to her chair.) 
I’m so sorry. For Marge, of course. (There is a 
little buzz of talk; NETTIE raps for order.) Ladies! 
The meeting will come to order. 

Miss CRACKENWALD. (Has a sheaf of papers in 
her hands) I was asked, on August the tenth, of 
the current year, to undertake a survey of some of 
the homes in the districts where conditions demand 
attention, with a veiw to evolving a new plan— 
(LuLA appears in the dining-room doorway. She 
is flying signals of distress. She beckons to NETTIE, 
pantomiming meanwhile. NETTIE shakes her head 
and with a glance tries to make LULA vanish. LULA 
persists and works to v.L. above table.) —for the es- 





MINICK 79 


tablishing between parents and children that bond 
which is so necessary if we are to develop a real 
American citizenry in the generation now flowering 
into manhood and womanhood. Accordingly, on the 
morning of the sixteenth of August 





[Lit has joined Nettie in the pantomime én an ef- 
fort to shoo Luta off. LULA ts insisting. The 
interruption is now a definite one. LULA ts 
hissing “I got to see you about the sandwiches.” | 


Minick. (Kssing, to NETTIE) Lula wants to 
talk to you. 
Lua. I got to see you about the sandwiches 





[In a hissing whssper. | 


NETTIE. (Rises and crosses L. very irritated) 
I’m terribly sorry, everybody. I won’t be a second 
. . - Lula, what do you mean 





[Lua exits D.L. followed by NETTIE who slams door. 
An embarrassed silence. | 


Miss Stack. The meeting should have been at 
your house, Mrs. Lippincott. 

Lit. Well, you know Nettie has had a great deal 
to put up with today, Miss Stack. 

Miss CRACKENWALD. I might as well sit down. 


[Does so.| 


Minick. (Rises and comes down to R. of Mrs. 
Lippincott) Well! Kind of a recess, eh? Tm 
Fred’s father. I don’t think I caught your name. 

Mrs. Lippincott. Mrs. Thornton Lippincott. 

Minick. Well, anyway, about Fred. I was go- 
ing to tell you 





80 MINICK 


NETTIE. (Reénters flustered, apologetic, almost 
tearful) I don’t know what I can say to you... 
Stupid maid. . . . It’s been a terrible day! 


[Motions Minick back to his seat; goes to chair, 
assumes again the role of chairman. Miss 
STACK takes a few folded sheets of paper from 
her bag and fans herself, looking about to see 
if a door or window can’t be opened.| 


Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. "Tis close, isn’t it? 

NETTIE. Come to order, ladies! We were—uh 
—we were just taking up—— 

Miss Stack. (Rises suddenly; at same instant 
Miss CRACKENWALD does likewise ; they speak simul- 
taneously) Madam Chairman! 

Miss CRACKENWALD. Madam Chairman! 

Nettie. Miss—uh 

Minick. (Points to Miss Stack) She was up 
first. The little one. 

Nettic. Father! Miss Stack? 

Miss Stack. I rise to a point of personal priv- 
ilege. I move 








[The doorbell rings.] 


Marce. (Off) May I come in? 

Nettie. Oh, it’s Mrs. Diamond now! 

Marce. (Enters) Hello, everybody! Not late, 
am I? 

NETTIE. Only an hour. 

Lit. Hello, Marge! 

Marce. Hello, Pr} (Teg ether) 

Mrs. Lippincott. Please, ladies! I have a most 
important engagement at five. 

Nettie. Marge, you knew we were meeting at 
three. Being secretary, it seems to me you might 
at least 





MINICK 81 


Marce. I’m sorry—I was held up. And I can’t 
stay. I promised Natalie Gaige I’d look in at the 
Blake reception. 

NettTic. You've got to stay. 

Miss Stack. We haven’t a quorum without you. 

Marce. But Irma’s waiting downstairs in the 
electric. 


[MInIcK goes to window and looks out.| 3 


Miss CRACKENWALD. Well, really ! 

Lit. (Rises and comes to MarceE) Now, Marge 
Diamond, listen to me! If the rest of us are willing 
to give our time, surely you ought to have some sense 
of responsibility. 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. I have two utter strangers 
coming to dinner—business friends of Mr. Small- 
ridge—yet, here I am! 

Lit. You sit right down in that chair, Marge 
Diamond. 





[MarcE sits in desk chatr.| 


MarcE. (Consulting her wrist watch) I can 
stay just—five minutes and not a second 

Minick. (Pointing out of window) ‘There’s 
your friend! You can see her right from here. 

Marce. What! (Rises.) Just a minute 
Nettie (Goes to window and throws it open; ths 
wind sweeps through the room, scattering papers 
on the desk. Note: wind blows papers off desk 
by use of blacksmith’s rotary forge back of set. 
Calls, leaning out.) Yoo hoo! Irma! Yoo hoo! 
Listen ! 

Nettic. (Rising and clutching at the flying pa- 
pers) Oh, my goodness! Marge! Marge, put that 
window down! 








[Lit helps Minicx gather up the papers.] 


82 MINICK 


Marce. (Still yelling out the window) I’ve 
got to stay five minutes. Will you wait for me! 
Wait for me! (Slams down the window and turns 
back to Nettie.) What did you say? 

NetTTicE. (Sits chair p.R. again) Marge, won't 
you please sit down now? 

Marce. (Outraged dignity; sits R. of Mrs. Lip- 
PINCOTT) Well—I am. (Lit returns to her seat.) 
Why don’t you go ahead? 

Nettizc. With Mrs. Diamond here now 

Minick. Say! (He ts speaking from the win- 
dow seat just above desk.) There was a party 
called you on the telephone. 

NetTTIc. Father! ! 

Minick. (To NETTIE) You forgot. 

Nettie. Father! It wasn’t important, Marge. 
Now 

Marce. (Rises) Who was it? 

NETTIE. It wasn’t anything. 

Minick. JI remember. It was her house. 
(MarcE goes to phone.) Your house called you up. 
Wants you to call them. 

Marce. Why didn’t you (Into phone.) Dor- 
chester 1653. (To the others.) Mamma’s taking 
care of Melville. It’s Miss Eaton’s day out. I 
hope (Into phone.) Yes, that’s right. 














[Short pause; she sits telephone stool.] 


NETTIE. Oh, dear! Well, the question is, shall 
we go back and have the minutes read now that 
Mrs. Diamond has come? 

Miss Stack. I move that the minutes be read. 


(Simultaneously) 
Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. I Marce. Hulda, this is 
second the motion. Mrs. Diamond. Listen, 


did Mother call me? 


MINICK 83 


NETTIE. It’s been 
moved and seconded that 
we go back and have the 
Recording Secretary read 
the minutes. Are there 
any remarks? 


Who? 


[Nore: These voices are not 
heard by audience, but 
only done to facilitate 
Marce’s pauses. ] 


HUvuLDA. 





Mise) Crackenwarp.  ,.!ARce. This is Mrs. 
: Diamond. Did Mother 
Well, it does seem to il me? 
me ! cail me! 
Nowe, Oh. Miss. UEDA... Watt a min- 
Crackenwald! All those U°: 
in favor say Aye. 
Corus. Aye. 
Nettiz. Opposed? 


Miss CRACKENWALD. No. 








Nettie. The motion is carried. 

Marce. Mother, what do you 

Nettigz. Oh, Marge 

Miaareaeli's, about Melville} CTagenier ) 

Marce. (To NETTIE) Just a minute, Net- 
tie. (Into the phone.) What's the matter with 
him? 

MorHer. He’s broken something—— 

Marce. Well, what? 

MortHer. Your best lamp. 

Marce. Not the big one in the hall! 

MorTHER. Yes. 

Marce. Oh! Well, where were you—you 





brought up children of your own 
MorHer. I was out in the kitchen—when he—— 








Marce. I don’t see why 

MoTHer. —hit it with his velocipede, 

Marce. With what? 

MorHeErR. His velocipede 

Marce. Every time you stay with him! Let me 
talk to him—oh—— 

NetTTI£. Oh, Marge, please—— 


Marce. (Rises) Just a minute, Nettie—— (Into 


84 MINICK 


phone.) Melville. Melville, this is mamma. What 
were you doing in the hall in the first place? 

MELVILLE. Riding my velocipede. 

Marce. But you're not allowed to ride your 
velocipede out there—that was one of mamma’s best 
lamps (MELVILLE starts crying.) Now, don’t 
cry! (More crying.) Stop that crying, Melville 
Diamond, and tell me (He talks incoherently.) 
Talk plainly. (Same business.) Take your fingers 
out of your mouth. 

MELvILLE. I haven’t got my fingers in my 
mouth. 

Marce. Well, what have you got in your mouth? 

MELvILLeE. My watch. 

Marce. Good heavens! Take it out! Take it 
put of your mouth this minute, mamma says. And 
‘listen to me. Mamma says you can’t have your 
velocipede again for a long time. You're a naughty, 
naughty boy! (Hangs up, turns to others.) My 
Chinese lamp that Al gave me for my anniversary. 

Nettiec. I’m sorry about your lamp, but really, 
Marge, we’ve got to get on. We've just voted to 
vo back and have you read the minutes. 

Marce. What minutes? 

Nettie. Marge! Your minutes. The minutes 
of the last meeting. 

Marce. Why, I didn’t think this was a regular 
meeting, Nettie. When Hulda gave me your 
message 

NettTic. Do you mean to say you didn’t bring 
them? 

Marce. I had no idea you’d want them today. I 
thought it was sort of a special meeting. 

Minick. Didn’t she bring it? 

Mrs. Lippincott. Can’t we get on, then? Miss 
Crackenwald ! | 











[Miss CRACKENWALD rises.] 





MINICK 8s 


Nettic. Yes, please. 

Miss CRACKENWALD. Well, if I may be assured 
of a few uninterrupted moments. (Looks at MARGE; 
MakcE sits in desk chair.) Following the collapse 
of the plan to bring parents and children together in 
closer accord through the medium of the school 
house—I was asked, on August tenth of the current 
year— (Here Marce rises, goes to phone stool; NET- 
TIE motions her to sit. Miss CRACKENWALD sees her 
and repeats.) —of the current year— (MArcE sits 
phone stool and smiles at Miss CRACKENWALD, ap- 
parently all attention now.) —to undertake a survey 
of some of the homes in the districts where condi- 
tions demand special attention, with a view to evolv- 
ing a new plan for establishing between parents and 
children that bond which is so necessary. This is 
indeed a most vital work. As our Federation presi- 
dent, Louisa Stout Breckenridge, said so concisely— 
(Punctuates the word with a gesture.) —in her key- 
note speech at the convention in Springfield, “The 
youth of today is the citizen of tomorrow.” (MarcE 
has been edging toward the door and now quietly 
tiptoes into hallway.) It is with the training of 
that youth that we concern ourselves here today. 
(Marc slams outer door.) And how can we better 
bring that about than by encouraging that youth to 
emulate the admirable qualities of that sturdy stock 
from which has—uh—sprung—the people who make 
up our population today—who make up our popula- 
tion today. (Shuffles three or four sheets of her 
paper but resumes reading from the top sheet again. 
Luta enters from the dining-room carrying a silver 
platter of fancy sandwiches and pitcher of orange 
juice with glasses. These she places on table. It 
is a quiet entrance, but the plates as they are set 
down clatter a little.) Now—uh— (Her platform 
voice and manner return.) —our problem then, spe- 
cifically, is to inculcate in the new generation a 


86 MINICK 


greater love and affection for the traditions of the 
old. As the logical medium for the furtherance of 
this ideal condition we have hit upon the Home. 
Bring Parent and Child together in the Home. Keep 
the child in the home by making that home more at- 
tractive than the streets—more entertaining than the 
motion picture palace—more alluring than the dance 
hall. To this end let us adopt as our slogan, “Every 
Home a Club.” Let us launch the Every Home a 
Club Movement. The boy and girl will not wander 
from the fireside if it holds for him the same games 
and pastimes that he is offered in the billiard parlors 
and pool rooms, in the corner drug or cigar 
stores 

Minick. (Who has been growing more and more 
interested and restless during this speech, now 
reaches the point where he can no longer contain 
himself. He comes over facing her) Now right 
there is where you're all wrong! 

Nettie. Father! You must not interrupt. You 
must not 








[Miss CRACKENWALD Sits in disgust. | 


Minick. Now, now! You’re on the wrong track 
and I can prove it to you. 
NETTIE. Father, not now. You can’t! 


[Lit rises. ] 


Minick. I can so! [NETTIE ‘ts distressed and 
Yessir! Because now goes up by desk facing 
you're talking about up. | 
something I’ve seen with 
my own eyes. And this 
was it. There were six 
Hassauer boys that lived 
right across the street 
from us in Blooming- 
ton—— 





MINICK 


Nettie, you’ve heard 
Fred talk of ’em—as fine 
boys as ever you'd want 
to see 





But run, run, run every 
night. Eat their supper 
and out. Got so their 
pa and ma _ practically 





never saw em 
So they got the idea of 
buying a billiard table to 
keep ’em in—had one 
sent down from Chi- 


cago—— 


[Turns and finds he has 
suddenly lost his audi- 


ence, suddenly drses 
up.| 


Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (As 
she crosses R.) Are we 
going? 


Minick. What are you 
doing? Busting up? I 
hope I ain’t discouraged 


87 


[All women rise in in- 
dignation. | 


Mrs. Lippincott. This 
is really! 

Miss Strack. Yes, in- 
deed ! 

[Crosses R. and exits.] 

Miss CRACKENWALD. 
(Crossing L.) Mrs. Min- 
ick, I’m afraid I shall 
have to go. 

[Exits D.v.] 

Mrs. LIPPINCOTT. 
(Turning to NETTIE and 
Lit) I move that we 
adjourn until the twenty- 
second and meet at my 
house. 

Lit. I don’t think 
that’s in order, Mrs. Lip- 
pincott. 

Mrs. Lippincott. A 
motion to adjourn is al- 
ways in order, Mrs. 
Corey. ? 
[Indignanily sweeping 

toward door R. and 

exits. | 


[Follows the other out.| 


88 MINICK 


you. Plenty other good [Mrs. CRACKENWALD re- 


work you girls can do. enters from L. and 
(Turns and sees her.) crosses. | 

You got a good head on 

you! 


[Ignoring him, she con-~ 
tinues to cross. | 


Mrs. Lippincott. (Reénters, her coat half on) 
Good day, Mrs. Minick. 

Miss Stack. (Following her leader as always) 
Good day, Mrs. Minick. 

Miss CRACKENWALD. Good afternoon. 


(FRED enters from the hall.| 


Frep. Well, well! I didn’t know this was going 
on. Hello there, ladies! Howdy-do, Miss Crack- 
enwald! 


[ Minick, crestfallen that he has broken up the meet- 
ing, crosses to D.L. end of table standing near 
sandwich platter. | 


Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. (From hallway) Good eve- 
ning, Mr. Minick. My, it must be late! 

Frep. Oh, not going, are you? 

Mrs. Lippincott. I’m afraid we must. 


[Exits, followed by Miss Stack and Miss Crack- 
ENWALD. | 


Frep. (To them in hall) Well, ’msorry! Id 
ask you to stay to dinner, only I’ve been married 
long enough to know better. (To NETTIE.) 
Haven’t I, old lady! (Pats her shoulder. Looks 
at her. In undertone.) What’s the matter? 

Nettie, (Pushes him away and turns up stage) 
Please! 


Se ee ee ee se 


i Wi ae 


er Be 


ee ae ee 


MINICK 89 


Miss CRACKENWALD. (Popping head in door- 
way) Good-day. 

Minick. (Standing ivestigating the  sand- 
wiches) Here’s the sandwiches. Ladies forgot to 
eat the sandwiches. 

Frep. Anything wrong? 

Lit. Net’ll tell you. 


[Mrs. SMALLRIDGE reénters buttoning her coat.] 


Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Well, good-bye, Nettie. 

NETTIE. Good-bye. 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. Good-bye, Mr. Minick. 

Minick. You want to try one of those. Pretty 
good. 

Mrs. SMALLRIDGE. No, I don’t want to spoil my 
dinner. Well, good-bye. Good-bye, Fred. Good- 
bye, Nettie. (From doorway and then exits.) Such 
a nice meeting. 

Lit. Can I do anything for you, Net? 


[NETTIE shakes her head.| 


Frep. What’s eating you girls, anyhow? 

Lit. Til ’phone you right after dinner, and I'll 
probably bring Jim over. (Crosses D.R.) Good- 
bye. Good-bye, Fred. 


[ Exits. ] 


Frep. For heaven’s sakes, Net, why the martyr 
stuff! What’s the matter! 

Nettic. Don’t speak to me! 

Frep. Don’t be so tragic. What’s happened? 

Minick. Fred, Nettie and I want to talk to you. 

Frep. Huh? 


[Still bewildered. 


go MINICK 


Nettie. (Jn desperation) Father Minick, won’t 
you please leave Fred and me alone, now! 

Frep. Perhaps you’d better, Dad. 

Minick. (Starts toward passage) Well, all 
right. But I want to talk to you. Yessir! 

NETTIE. Oh! 

Frep. For God’s sake, Nettie, what is this all 
about ? 

Nettic. (Regards him rather wildly a moment) 
About! (Her voice breaking.) Ill tell you what 
it’s about. It’s about you and him and me and 
everything else! That’s what it’s about! 


[Crosses D.R. and sits in armchair. Is half crying.] 


Frep. Well, what have I——? Has Father done 
something ?—What is it? 

Nettie. (Now deadly calm) It’s just this, 
Fred Minick. I was good enough for you to bring 
your father into this house and saddle him on me 
all day long, every day—good enough to have him 
humiliate me before all these women and probably 
lose me my chairmanship that it’s taken me months— 
and that Mrs. Lippincott—the audacity 

Frep. (Crosses to her and puts his arm around 
her to comfort her) Oh, Nettie—I’m terribly sorry. 
Now, you’re just tired. 

NETTIE. (Pushes him away, rises and crosses C.) 
Oh, yes! I was good enough for that! But when 
it came to confiding in your wife that you were 
risking God knows how much money in a business 
that you don’t'know any more about than a child— 
that’s different, I suppose! Oh, yes! 

Frep. (A sigh, to himself. He knows the storm 
is upon him) Oh God! 

Nettie. And I suppose everybody in town would 
have known it before me if your father hadn’t just 
stumbled on it 











MINICK gI 


Frep. (4 step toward her) Father! What 
does he know? He doesn’t 

Nettic. And this afternoon! Not only does 
that lovely news about you and Jim come just as I’m 
expecting them for a most important meeting be- 
cause that Clara Whitney—Sick! is she! (Throws 
a chair to one side and fitngs herself upon sofa.) 
Well, look at me! I’m sick—sick and tired of being 
the one to sacrifice, and suffer, and then not even be 
told what my own husband is doing! 

Frep. (Crossing) Now, Nettie, this thing is as 
safe as a bank! What’s the use of getting all 
worked up about nothing? 


[He sits L. of her.] 





Nettie. Nothing! Oh, it’s nothing, is it? Noth- 
ing for me to have been humiliated this afternoon 
as no woman was ever humiliated before in the 
world! I'll never be able to face any of those 
women again! Do you suppose they'll let me go to 
Springfield after what happened in this house this 
afternoon? 

Frep. For God’s sake, what did happen? 

NetTic. What happened? [Ill tell you what 
happened! Your father disgraced me in front of all 
those women ; he offended one of the biggest women 
in club work today! Well, I’ve stood a good deal 
in the six months he’s been here—yes, and from you, 
too—but I’ve reached the end— (Rises and goes 
R.c.) —do you understand me? I’ve reached the 
end! 


[Goes to desk and fusses among papers. | 
Frep. (Rises and crosses to her) Nettie, you’re 


making an awful fuss about nothing! You're 
Nettie. (Turning on him) Nothing? Oh, I 





92 MINICK 


suppose everything is nothing to you! It was noth- 
ing to you when I had to sit on that hotel porch 
with him and those terrible old women for weeks 
last summer, while you went off on your fishing 
trips! And it was nothing to you that I had to 
entertain that miserable Phil What’s-His-Name in 
this house till 1 thought I’d go crazy 





[Fussing around desk again. | 


Frep. Now let me tell you something! Phil 
Lemming is one of the whitest men in Chicago, and 
he’s gone through for me a dozen times! 

NettTiE. He’s a good-for-nothing drunken loafer, 
that’s what he is, and so’s his wife! 

Frep. Oh! And how about your friend Bessie 
Cowan, or whatever her name was, that was running 
in here all summer’? I suppose she was a sweet 
young thing, wasn’t she? 

NetTTIE. (Has taken a paper from desk) She 
didn’t do anything to you! If I’d ever made you 
put up with one-tenth of the things that you’ve made 
me endure, I tell you I’d have heard about it long 
ago! 

Frep. Oh, I hear about it! 

Nettie. Well, all I can say is that your father 
and the way he’s behaved here this afternoon is the 
last straw! And I want to know what you’re going 
to do about it! 

Frep. Oh, Nettie, don’t talk silly! Just be- 
cause 

NETTIE. (Tearing paper into bits) I mean it! 
What is there in it for me anyhow? I was doing 
very well before I ever married you! I was earn- 
ing my own good living, and I can do it again! 
Where am I now! There isn’t a girl in the crowd 
but what has twice as many clothes as I have! I’ve 
gone out in that green chiffon until I’d think even 





MINICK 93 


you'd feel ashamed! (Throws bits of paper into 
waste paper basket.) And now what thanks do I 
get? You take every cent we’ve got and throw it 
away 

Frep. I haven’t thrown it away! You're going 








to 

Nettie. And now, on top of it all, I have to put 
up with this! (Waves a hand that is meant to in- 
dicate MINICK, goes down and starts returning arti- 
cles from bookcase to smoking table.) I can’t even 
have my own home to myself any more! You 
know what pride I took in fixing it up—nobody 
enjoyed having friends in more than I did! And 
I was the one that made them want to come—you 
never made any effort. But they've been coming 
less and less, haven’t they? Even you must have 
noticed that. And pretty soon they won’t be com- 
ing at all. (Has taken gavel from smoking table 
and putting it on bookcase, when the full smport of 
her last words sinks in, she turns and goes to him 
and speaks very deliberately.) Well, before that 
happens I want to tell you something. I’m through. 
Either he goes out of this house or I do, and you can 
take your choice. 


[Starts to cross L.] 


Frep. (Stopping her at c.) Oh, now, you 
know you don’t mean that. You've got yourself all 
worked up. 

NetticE. Oh, don’t I, though? Well, this is all 
I’ve got to say, and I mean every word of it. 
Either your father goes out of this house or I do, 
Fred Minick— (Starts to cross L.) —and I don't 
care which it is! 


[Exits into passage, goes to her room and slams 
door shut. FRED walks upstage in desperation, 


94 MINICK 


MInIck enters from passage. His entrance ts 
a pretty portentous one. That of the father 
who is going to remonstrate with his little boy.] 


Minick. Now, Fred! I want you to listen to 
me. 

Frep. (A gesture of a man who has all he can 
stand and will hear no more; comes down to his R.) 
Father ! 

Minick. (Comes c.) I don’t know what Net- 
tie’s had to say to you, but I want you to tell me 
about this nonsense of yours. 

Frep. (Crossing R.) Father, for God’s sake! 
Will you 

Minick. All right! But I’m going to take hold 
of things just the same. I remember when you 
were nine years old 

Frep. (Returning to him) But I’m not nine 
years old any longer. You don’t seem to realize 
that! 

Minick. I realize you got no right to jump into 
a thing like this without coming to me about it 

Frep. Father, for God’s sake! You’re an old 
man. What do you know about modern business ? 
(Crosses R., taking his hat from desk as he goes.) 
If you’d only stay out of my affairs 














[Exits and slams the outer door.| 


Minick. (Stands for a moment, dazed) An 
old man—that’s what he said—an old man. 


[LuLa enters with tray and pitcher of orangeade; 
looks at empty room, amagzed.| 


Lua. The juice of twelve oranges! 


CURTAIN 


ACT THREE 


ScENE: The Same Scene. 
Eight o'clock the following morning. 


[FRED enters from passage. He is in a bathrobe, his 
hasr _tousled. He glances about as though 
searching for something. Not finding it he goes 
out into the hall. The outside door 1s heard to 
open and close. He reénters the living-room, 
plainly annoyed now. Calls: 


Frep. Lula! Lula! (Crosses to passage door.) 
Lula! Lula, where’s the morning paper? (LULA 
enters from the passage. FRep starts to speak a 
second before LULA is seen.) Did you bring it in? 

Luta. What? | 

Frep. Did you bring in the morning paper? 

Lua. Yes, sir. I brought it in when I came. 
I put it right on your chair like always. 

Frep. Well, then, I suppose—— 


[Crossing to just above table pL. NETTIE enters 
from passage. | 


Nettie. Good morning, Lula. 
[Crossing L.c.] 


Luts. ’Morning. Guess it’s in Mr. Minick 
room again. Ill go see— You folks pret’ near 
ready for breakfast? 

Nettig. What’s in Mr. Minick’s room? 


95 


96 MINICK 


Frep. (Js above table lower end) The morning 
paper. 

Lua. You folks pret’ near ready for breakfast? 
How you want your eggs? 

Nettie. Nothing for me but a cup of black 
coffee. 

Luta. (Who has turned to go. Over her shoul- 
der) No toast? 

Nettigc. I don’t want anything but a cup of black 
coffee. (Luta exits.) I didn’t close an eye all 
night ! 

[Crosses to desk.] 


Frep. (Down lower end below table) I thought 
you slept pretty well. Asleep every time I looked 
at you. 

Nettie. I heard the clock strike one—I heard it 
strike two—three—four—five. I dropped off for a 
minute around six, and then I heard Lula come in. 


[Lua enters with newspaper, which is very much 
rumpled and awry. FRED gives an exclamation 
of vexation at its disarray. NETTIE, seeing 
this, gives a glance of mild triumph and says, 
“Well, it’s your father!’ Lua goes. FRED 
goes back of table to straighten the paper. 
NETTIE sighs gustily. | 


Nettic. He’s holding us all up; Lula’s waiting 
breakfast; you’re not even dressed. 

Frep. Oh, well—all right. 

NETTIE. (Crosses L. below table) He’s been in 
that bathroom exactly twenty minutes by the clock. 
I’m going to call him. 


[Goes off into passage. LULA goes into dining-room 
and starts to arrange dishes on table. | 


*“MINICK”’ 





LIBRARY 
OF THE 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 


MINICK 97 


Frep. (With a gesture intended to restrain her) 
Now !—— 


[Stands listening a bit apprehensively, paper in 
hand. | 


Nettie. (Knocking at bathroom door, off. Calls:) 
Father ! 

Minick. (Mufiled) Yep. ° 

Nettie. Are you all right? (Another muffled 
response that is vaguely “Sure. I’m all right.”) 
Well, we were just wondering. You’ve been in 
there so long. 

Minick. Just putting on my undershirt. 

Nettie. Well, all right. But Fred is waiting 

Minick. Coming right out. 

Nettie. All right. 


[FRED turns his attention to the newspaper. It is, 
in its present state, more than he can handle. 
He lays it on the table, straightens it out. One 
or two sections are upside down. The paper 
adjusted, he starts to read it casually as it és 
spread out before him, leaning on the table. 
Minick, in his undershirt, appears in passage 
doorway, outer shirt in hand. Hs feet in the 
passage, his upper body projecting into the liv- 
ing-room as he grasps the door jamb.] 





Minick. I’m out! 
Frep. Oh all right. 


[Goes on reading his newspaper. MINIcK pops 
back to his bedroom, slamming door. NETTIE 
comes out of her bedroom and slams door and 
reénters from the passage. | 


Nettie. Fred, will you go in and finish dressing! 
(Goes to desk.) I can’t have Lula getting three 
breakfasts every morning. 


98 MINICK 


Frep. (A last look at the paper. Perhaps a 
step back for another look) Yep. 


[NETTIE gives him an impatient look. He goes off 
into passage, reluctantly. | 


Nettie. (Taking paper and pencil) Oh—Lula. 
Come here, will you? 


[LuLa comes in from dining-room to U.c.] 


jib) we ala 

NetTic. I’m going out to market right after 
breakfast (Sits in chair u.R of desk.) Now— 
what do we need? 

Luta. We don’t need anything. 

Nettigc. There’s enough lamb for stew, isn’t 
there? ? 

Luta. Don’t hardly think so. 

NetTIE. There ought to be. I didn’t eat a 
mouthful last night; and Mr. Min—we’ll make it 
do—Any carrot in the house? 

Luta. No, ma’am. 

Nettie. Noc Pll get a small bunch. (Writes 
“carrots.’) Open a can of peas. (Makes a circular 
gesture that wreathes the stew in carrots and peas.) 
You can bake a lemon pie. We ought to have a 
nice dessert with 

Luta. Lemon pie, when I got to do all that 
cleaning! 

Nettigz. All right. We'll just cut up some 
fruit (Half to herself.) Now what else do we 
need ? Potatoes—onions—see Holzman—electric light 
globes—Butter—no, we don’t need butter. 

LuLa, (Yas'm. Weneed butter. 

Nettie. Why, Lula! (Perfunctorily.) Well, 
we've got plenty of coffee. 

Luta. No’m. Used up the last of it for break- 
fast. 














MINICK | 99 


Nettie. Lula, you couldn’t! I just got a pound 
Saturday. 

Luia. Ain’t none there. 

NettiecE. You’re drinking too much coffee, Lula. 
Very bad for you. Make you nervous. 

Luta. (Laughs) I ain’t nervous. 

Nettie. Now, is there anything else we need? 

Luta. Now—let mesee. No,ma’am. Wedon’t 
need anything. 

Wernie. Youre ‘sure,. Lula? - Think hard: I 
don’t want you to 

Lua. (Putting hand to face in attitude of deep 
thought) No’m. Can’t think of anything. 





[Goes into dining-room. Minick enters, fully 
dressed. NETTIE rises and puts her note book 
in desk.| 


Minick. Breakfast ready? 
NETTIE. Good morning, Father. 


[Putting her list away. ] 


Minick. (Coming above table to u.r.c.) Morn- 
ing. Where’s Fred? Getting dressed? 

Nettic. He'll be right out! 

Minick. I want to talk to Fred. 

Nettie. He’ll be here in a minute. Did you 
sleep well? 

Minick. Fair, fair! 

Nettie. I looked in before we went to bed, but 
you were sound asleep. 

Minick. I heard you. And I heard the four of 
you going on out here until it must have been mid- 
night—you and the Coreys. 

Nettic. Oh—we were just talking. 

Minicx. I know—I know. (To Luta, in the 
dining-room.) Look here, m’girl! I ain’t been 


100 MINICK 


getting my other pillow lately. What you been 
doing with it? 

NettTiE. Father, please. If there’s anything you 
want, tell me and not Lula. 

Minick. Two nights now she ain’t been giving 
me my other pillow. 

NETTIE. Father, you know you only use one 
pillow. I told Lula to take the other one away. . 

Minick. (Firm about it) I sleep on two pillows. 

NETTIE. But you don’t. Morning after morn- 
ing, when we make up the bed, we find one on the 
floor. You sleep on one pillow. 

Minick. (Not yielding an inch) I sleep on two 
pillows. Ma always gave me two. 

Nettie. (With a sigh) All right, Father. 
You'll have two tonight. 


[Lua appears in dining-room door, apparently just 
from the kitchen, with percolator.| 


Luta. Everybody ready. 


{It ts an announcement rather than a query; she 
disappears immediately. | 


NETTIE. (Crosses below table to pD.R. door. Call- 
ing) Fred! Are you ready? 
Frep. All right! Ina minute! 


[His voice comes from far off.| 


Nettie. Well, hurry up! 
Frep. (Still far off) Go ahead—l’ll be right in! 
NETTIE. Come, Father. 


[Goes above table to dining-raom. | 


Minick. (Still on his pillows) Always hawe 
used two pillows. (Mu1nick goes into dining-room.) 
What you got for breakfast? Something good? 


MINICK 101 


Nettie. About the same as usual, Father. 
(Luta hands her glass of orange juice.) Thanks, 
Lula. 

Minick. (Luta hands glass to Minick) Orange 
juice, eh? Left over from the party, huh? Where’s 
Fred—coming ? 

Nettie. He'll be here in a minute, Father. 

Minicx. Don’t know where that snow is they 
were predicting. Don’t look much like snow to me 
today. Just guess at it, that’s all they do. Guess 
at it. Hello, Fred. 

FreD. (Coming into the dining-room from the 
passage) Good morning, Father. 

Nettie. Drink your orange juice, Fred—we’re 
waiting for you. 

Frep. I don’t want any. 

Minick. Don’t want any orange juice? Whole 
pitcher of it in the kitchen. 

Nertic. You can take Mr. Minick’s glass, Lula. 
He doesn’t want any. 


[FRED has entered from the dining-room, gathered 
up the newspapers, goes back into dining-room. 
LuLa exits into kitchen.| 





Minick. Not much news in the paper (A 
pause.) Well, looks as if my cold just about left 
over night. Yes, sir. Did me good, going out 
yesterday. 

Frep. I wish we could have something besides 
eggs for breakfast. 

Nettie. We're lucky to have eggs. 

Minick. Understand over in England the Eng- 
lish eat a good deal of fish for breakfast. Got one 
fish they call a bloater, and another one they call 
the kipper or something. Somebody was telling me 
about it. Forget who it was. Fellow over at the 
Home, I guess. Ya, that’s who it was. Fellow 


102 MINICK 


named of McIntyre. Scotty, they call him. (The 
doorbell rings.) Who’s that, I wonder? Some- 
body coming? 


[ Rises and. comes into living-room above table.| 
Frep. It’s probably just mail, Father. 
[Lua crosses from the passage to the hall.| 


Minick. Nope. Wasn’t his ring. Always rings 
twice. 

NETTIE. It may be Lil. She’s going downtown 
early. 


[Minick has a napkin tucked in his collar. On the 
napkin ss an egg spot.| 


DIETENHOFER. (Off) Old gentleman in? 
LuLa. (Jn tired voice) Yessir—he’s in. 


[When he hears DIETENHOFER’S voice MINICK 
evinces immediate interest. | 


Minick. (Half to himself and half to Frep and 
NETTIE) Gosh, it’s Dietenhofer. (DIETENHOFER 
and Price enter from the hall followed by Luta.) 
And Price, too. Hel-lo there! (Comes over to R.c.) 
You must have got up in the middle of the night! 


[LuLa gives Price a slight shove to pass him, 
crosses and extts into passage.]| 


DIETENHOFER. Good morning i | 
Price. Morning! CPogether) 
Minick. Well! Just in time for a bite of break- 

fast. 

DIETENHOFER. No. We come to tell you some- 
thing. 


MINICK 103 


Nettie. (Enters from dining-room, is back of 
table. Rather stiffly) Good morning. 

DIETENHOFER. ’Morning, ma’am. We don’t aim 
to intrude. We just dropped in a minute to see— 
(Hesitates.) —Minick about something. 

NetricE,. (A bit coldly) That’s all right. Won’t 
you take off your things? Father? 


[Indicating that he might assist them.] 


DIETENHOFER. No, thank you, ma’am. 

Price. We just dropped in. 

Nettie. Well, I’m sureyyou’ll—just—— (Starts 
to go.) Make yourselves at home. 


[Exits into passage. | 


Minick. Sit down! Sit down! (Calls into din- 
ing-room.) Fred! 

Frep. What? 

Minick. I want you to meet couple of friends 
of mine—— 

DIETENHOFER. (Whsspers) No! No! 

Minick. Gentlemen, you’ve never met my son. 

DIETENHOFER. No. No. But we want to talk 
to you. It’s im 





[DIETENHOFER and PRIcE are noticeably uneasy.| 


Minick. Here he is! (FRep enters from dining- 
room, crossing above table to D.L. and then to L.c.) 
Fred, I want to make you acquainted with Mr. 
Dietenhofer and Mr. Price. 


[Takes off his napkin, flinging tt in chair v.R. of 
desk. Luta goes from kstchen into dining- 
room. | 


104. MINICK 


Frep. How are you, gentlemen? 

DIETENHOFER. Howdy-do. 

Price. How are you! 

Frep. Sit down, gentlemen! My father’s often 
spoken of you. (LuLa enters from dining-room, 
snatches napkin off chair, glaring at Minick and 
exits into dining-room and on into kitchen, with per- 
colator.) Sit down. 

DIETENHOFER. Well 





[Sits on telephone stool. PRIcE sits m armchair 
D.R. Both eye FRED narrowly.| 


Frep. Well! You’re a couple of early birds, 
aren't you? 
[Sits on sofa. | 


DIETENHOFER. Why, we just dropped in to talk 
over a little matter 

Price. With Minick. 

Frep. (A little laugh) Well, I guess I’m not 
qualified to sit in on your debates. I understand 
you boys have some pretty lively sessions over in 
the park. Id certainly like to join you though, if 
I can get a day off from the office. 

DIETENHOFER. Sure! Sure! 

Frep. Yes, indeed! 

DIETENHOFER. I understand you’ve just gone 
into a new business, Mr. Minick. 

Frep. (His smile vanishing) What’s that? 

DIETENHOFER. Minick here was telling us you’ve 
gone into the mail order business. 

Frep. (None too pleased) Oh, was he! 

Minick. (Taking an embarrassed turn up to win- 
dow) Well—we were just talking—and I happened 
to bring up the 

Price. (Judicial) How’s it look? 

Trep. (Somewhat stiffly) All right, thank you. 








MINICK 108 


DIETENHOFER. Minick here seemed pretty wor- 
ried about it yesterday: 





[Minick is shifting a little uncomfortably and 
gultily. | 


Frep. Indeed! 

DIETENHOFER. He was asking us what we thought 
about it. Of course Price and me—we didn’t know 
much about it, but—huh—we got taking it up with 
a few of the boys over at the Home last night—just 
a little crowd—ten, twelve—and they seemed to think 
you picked a pretty shaky time for it. 

Frep. Oh—really? 

Price. Tell him what Davison said. 

Frep. (Reses) Thank you. Some other time. 
(Moves toward the passage.) I have to go now. 
(A quick glance to MINIcK.) God! 


[Extts. Minick comes R.c.] 


DIETENHOFER. He went off pretty sudden. 
(Rises with PRIcE and comes R. of MINIcK.) But 
I’m glad he went. Ain’t we, Price? (Jn a confi- 
dential tone.) Wecome to tell you something you'll 
be mighty interested to learn. 

Minick. What’s that? 

DIETENHOFER. Remember what I told you yes- 
terday about Patterson? Los Angeles? Well, he’s 
going. 

Price. Los Angeles. 

Minick. Well? 

DIETENHOFER. Got a dispatch this morning and 
going right out this afternoon. There’s your chance. 
Can’t tell how long it'll be vacant. They grab ’em 
up mighty quick. You could get in if you went 
after it. Trimble likes you first rate, and so does 
she. 


106 MINICK 


Price. We come right over. 

DIETENHOFER. Course I know you said yester- 
day you wouldn’t ever. But Price and me we no- 
ticed your son’s wife was pretty hitey-titey with 
you. We was sort of remarking about it on the 
way home. 

Minick. (Slowly, thoughtfully) Oh, Nettie, she 
don’t mean any harm. Kind of flares up and 
then 

DIETENHOFER. Well, harm or no harm, the min- 
ute I heard Patterson— (FRED comes down passage 
and stands outside door listening.) —was actually 
going I says to Price, I says: (Turns to PRicE and 
then back to Minicx.) Price, here’s the chance for 
Minick to come into the Home where he can pay his 
three hundred a year and free as a bird. 





[Sees Frep and takes a step back.] 


Price. That’s what you 





[Stops short on seeing FRED. ] 
Frep. (Enters) What’s that? 


[Takes a step in, his eyes on the old men, a dazed 
look on his face as though he has heard some- 
thing his ears could not credit. He 1s carrying 
his overcoat, limply, so that st drags slightly on 
the floor. He 1s unaware that he has it in his 
hand. As he speaks he lets the coat slide onto 
chair D.L. without knowing it ts gone. Bewild- 
erment, unbelief, pain are in his voice.]| 


Frep. Do you mean to tell me that you’re trying 
to persuade my father to go into the— (A vague 
gesture toward st.) —that Home? 

Minick. No harm meant. They just thought 
that if I was thinking of going over there, why— 





MINICK 107 


[Pric—E and DIETENHOFER, thoroughly frightened, 
back to door R.| 


Frep. But you’re not, Dad. Tell them you're 
not! 

Minick. N-n-n-n—I wasn’t exactly thinking of 
it. 

Frep. I should hope not! Why, I never heard 
of such a thing. Home! 

Minick. Well, a body might do worse, at that. 

Frep. Dad, you don’t mean to tell me you actu- 
ally—are thinking about it! 

DIETENHOFER. Guess we'll be getting on our way. 


[Exit wth PRIce. | 


Frep. (His eyes searching the old man’s face) 
Father! (The outer door slams, actual terror in his 
votce.) Nettie! 

Minick. (Raises a pacifying hand, though his 
tone 1s not completely reassuring) Now—now! 
Don’t you get her all excited. 


[NETTIE reénters from passage. | 


Frep. Nettie! Did you ever suspect that Dad 
was thinking of leaving here i 

NetTIE£E. Leaving! 

Frep. That he was thinking of going to a Home?. 

Nettie. Why—no! 

Frep. Well—he is. 

Minick. Now I don’t want you to get stirred up 
about this—you and Nettie. I thought it all out 
last night, and I’ve got it straight in my mind. 

Nettig. Why, Father, what is it? 

Minick. (To FrepD) Well, you see when you 
flared up at me yesterday 

Frep. Now, Dad 











108 MINICK 
[Crossing to him.] 


Minick, That’s all right. I was kind of taken 
aback at first, didn’t know just what to make of it, 
and then—I got to thinking. And I remember how 
Nettie’s club ladies—they busted up minute I started 
to talk to them. 

Nertie. That’s over now, let’s not talk about it. 


[Crossing to R. of him.] 


Minick. And then, putting two and two to- 
gether—all of a sudden it come to me. I says to 
myself—Fred and Nettie—they’re right. They don’t 
want to be told things by an old fellow like me. 

Frep. Why, Dad, you’re not old. 

Minick. I’m turned seventy-two. Yessir! I’m 
a pretty old codger. It’s funny how you don’t real- 
ize that till somebody tells you right out. 

Frep. Oh! 

Minick. You fool yourself. Everybody gets old, 
but not you. You see, I belong to one—time, and 
you belong to another. You go to work and try 
to mix up the two and you run right smack into 
trouble. Look at yesterday. I was telling that girl 


—you know—one that made the speech—that what 


she was saying wouldn’t work. 
Nettie. But, Father, Miss Crackenwald is an 
authority on 
Minick. Say, you can put nineteen billiard tables 
in your house, and your youngsters run around the 
corner to play billiards just the same. 
Frep. That’s all right, Dad. She didn’t 
Minick. Of course not. And that ain’t what I’m 
aiming at. I mean the whole thing. Not just you 
and me and Nettie. But you see, young people don’t 
think old people have got any sense; and old people 
don’t think young folks know anything. You take 








MINICK 109 


out in the park all summer, there wasn’t a better in- 
formed man among ’em than I was. Problems of 
the day. You take whether Germany can meet her 
payments 

Frep. We know, Dad. But you and I understand 
each other. 

Minick. Why, mornings they used to wait till 
I got there before they’d start in. “Here he comes 
now,” they’d say. Yessir, we’d have it hot and 
heavy, and it’d take a pretty good man to down me. 
And that’s why—with winter coming and—no park 
—you see, a fellow has got to have people around 
that understands him. 

Nettic. But you can have your friends in here. 
It just happened that yesterday I had that meeting. 

Frep. Yes. 

Minick. Over there, they all got about the same 
way of doing things. That’s why I want to go. 
Get up early in the morning; you don’t have to 
worry for fear you're going to wake somebody else 
up. If you want company, all you have to do is 
open your door. If you don’t want company, shut 
it. You see,— (Sits in desk chasr.) —when a fel- 
low gets my age he’s kind of set in his ways. I 
guess maybe Ma used to spoil me. 

Frep. We're going to take care of you now. 

Minick. Sit and listen to me by the hour. 
“That’s so, Ben. You’re right, Ben.’ Used to 
make me think I was smarter than all get-out. Guess 
maybe she was the smart one. 

Frep. But, Dad—you are smart. 

Nettie. I should say so. 


[Sits on telephone stool.] 


Frep. Why, for your age you’re—— 

Minick. You see. 

Frep. Dad, you make me feel just terrible. Do 
you think we'd let you go away from here? Never! 





IIo MINICK 


Nettie. It'll work out. You'll see. 

Frep. Now come, Dad. 

Minick. But here’s the funny part of it. Once, 
after she took sick she said, ““Ben, Fred and Nettie 
are going to want you to come with them. Don’t 
you do it.” You see, Ma didn’t ever know how bad 
things got to be with the money. But she knew a 
lot of things I’m just finding out. She was pretty 
smart. 

Frep. But, Dad, you’re all wrong. Now 
we're going to keep you right here and look after 
you. 

Nettie. It’s going to be your home as much as 
ours, and you can do just whatever you like. 

Minick. No, I don’t want you to change for me. 
It ain’t natural. No call for you children to live an 
old man’s life, but you see with me 

Frep. But, Dad, we'll do anything to make you 
happy. 

Nettie. Of course. 

Minick. (Rising and crossing to c.) H’m, well 
I know. But I don’t want to feel that anybody’s 
waiting around for me You see, us Minicks 
we're long livers. I’m good for another ten, fifteen 
years. 

Frep. (Crossing to and going L. of him) Of 
course you are, Dad, and you're going to spend them 
here with us, every one of them. 

NETTIE. (Rising and going to R. of MIntIck) 
Indeed you are! 

Frep. Now, Dad, we want you here. I’m all 
broken up about this. We want you with us. 
Nettie 

NettTigz. Of course, Father. We wouldn’t hear 
of it any other way. You know that. 

Minick. Well, of course, if you feel that way 
I don’t want to make you children unhappy, but—— 

Frep. Then it’s settled. Now, I don’t want to 











oo ee 


ee ag Boe 


CO eg Pee one 


MINICK III 


hear of any more such foolishness out of you again, 
young man. 

NettTic. Now it’s settled, Father, and over. 

Frep. Yes, and from now on, things are going 
to be different. We'll start tonight. I’ll come home 
early from the office, and 

Minick. M-m-m-m. 

Frep. And we'll have a nice little dinner, just 
the three of us. 

Nettie. Everything you like. Chicken with 
dumplings—and spinach 

Frep. And after dinner, we'll spend the evening 
just with you. I'll tell you what! You can teach 
us pinochle. Will you do that, Dad? 

Minick. We'll see. We'll see. 

Nettic. And I'll tell you what else we’re going 
to do— (The doorbell rings.) —That’ll be Lil. 
At ten o'clock we’ll mix up some of those little 
fizzes that you like, and 











[NETTIE goes to hall and exits.] 


Frep. Now, then, it’s a date. And you’re not 
going to disappoint us? Why, you had me scared 
out of seven years’ growth, the idea of your thinking 
such a 





[Lit and Net are heard in hall exchanging greet- 
ings. MINICK goes up to window, followed 
parily by FRrRep, as Lit enters, followed by 
NETTIE. | 


Lit, Oh—hello, Fred. Thought you’d be gone. 
Frep. I’m just leaving. 


[Crossing to lower edge of sofa for coat.]| 
Lit. Good morning, Mr. Minick. 


| Crosses to upper edge of sofa.| 


II2 MINICK 


Minick. Good morning. 
Frep. (Preparatory to leaving) Well. 


[Slaps hts pockets to see 1f he has everything.] 


NetTTicE. Father Minick, don’t you want to go 
out for a while and take a walk? 

Frep. Yes, Dad. Bright day like this. Clear 
your cold right up. 

Minick. Well—maybe I might. 

NetTigE. Yes, that'll be—— .(LuLA enters from 
passage to answer the door.) It’s all right, Lula. I 
went. (As LuLa turns to go.) Oh, Lula. Father 
Minick’s going out for a walk. So you give his 
room a real cleaning. Do his first. And, oh, Lula! 
Did you clear away the breakfast things? 

Lua, ip ¥es'm. 

Nettiz. I’d hardly touched my coffee. I wonder 
if you’d mind getting me a fresh cup? 

Luta. (Sighs) No’m. 


[Exits] 


NETTIE. Just put it on the table. 

FRED. Want to take me as far as the L, Dad? 

Minick. I'll be awhile. You go ahead. 

Lit. (To Minick) It isn’t as warm as it looks. 
(Raising her voice.) You'd better bundle up. 

Minick. (Mimicking her raised voice) MTll 
bundle. 

[Lit ts u.R. of sofa.] 


Frep. Good-bye, Dad! 


[Reaches over and gives his father, as he passes, two 
reassuring slaps on the shoulders. | 


Minick. Good-bye. 


[Goes tnto passage.| 


ne = gl a ee 


MINICK 113 


Frep. Don’t forget tonight. (NETTIE sits at desk 
and looks over her bills.) Going down on the L, 
Lil? Want to come with me? 

Lit. Why—not just yet, Fred. Thought I'd 
talk to Net a while. 


[Sits upper edge of sofa.] 


Frep, You’re up and out pretty early, all right 
—Well 

Lit. I’ve been up for hours. I didn’t close an 
eye all night. I heard the clock strike one—two— 
three. I dropped off for a minute around six. 





[Rises and crosses up to window. A look of recog- 
nition on FRED’S face. | 





Frep. That’s too bad 
Well, Nettie? 


(Crosses to NETTIE.) 


[His look and tone savor of conciliation. | 


NETTIE. (Without much life in her tone) Good- 
bye, Fred. 

Frep. (Js just back of her chair) You were a 
peach, old girl. (Js rather awkward and sheepish 
about this, yet he wants to say tt before he goes.) 
And I want you to know I appreciate it. 

NETTIE. What else was there to do, Fred? 

Frep. Just the same you were mighty fine about 
it and—don’t you forget it. As far as the business 
is concerned It’s going to be all right 
You'll see. You’re going to have lots of money 
some day. 

Nettie. I hope so, Fred. 

FreD. (Crossing R. to lower edge of desk) Not 
sore at your old man, are you? 

NetTTIE. No. 








114 MINICK 


Frep. I didn’t mean to keep it from you. But 
every time I tried to tell you, I lost my nerve. So 
I thought [’d wait until it really got going. I’m 
sorry. 

NETTIE. (Rises) I’m sorry too—about every- 
thing I said. I said terrible things, I know. 

Frep. (They embrace) It’s all right. I under- 
stand. (They kiss.) Peach! (Goes ito the hall.) 
Good-bye, Lil. 

Lit. (Comes p.R.) Well! You 

NetTTIE. (Sighs) Lil, what could I do? Father 
Minick just threatened to pack up and go to an 
Old Man’s Home. 

Line iNet! 

NETTIE. Just now! 

Lit. (Sits sofap.Lt.) And coming on top of that 
terrible session last night! I can imagine. 

NETTIE. (Sits in desk chair) Lil, after you and 
Jim left last night I had a kind of nervous chill. 
I was just like this. 





[Clenching her hands and gesturing nervously.] 


Lit. Well, if I had a nervous chill every time 
Jim and I—well, you’ll learn. Why don’t you come 
downtown with me? Do you good. 


[LuLa goes into dining-room from kitchen with 
percolator. | 


NettiE. Lula’s cleaning and I’ve got my ordering 
to do. I don’t know—maybe I will. 

Luta. (From dwming-room) Your coffee’s ready. 

NettTigc. All right, Lula. (Rises and goes into 
dining-room.) Lil, maybe you might like this cup 
of hot coffee. I can get another. 


[Brings it back into room.| 


MINICK 118 


Lit. I couldn’t swallow a mouthful. Black 
coffee was all I had for breakfast and I had to 
force myself to drink that. 

NETTIE. (Sits on sofa Rr. of Lit) Well, I 
thought maybe it’d buck me up a little. (A sigh.) 
Of course, Lil, I don’t have to tell you what this 
means,— (Minick starts down hallway dressed to 
go out, with overcoat and arctics on.) —this having 
Father Minick in the house. He’ll be here for God 
knows how long. (MINICK goes into dining-room 
from hall, and LuLa passes him in the doorway as 
she goes into kitchen. Minick goes up to buffet 
and gets an apple.) Of course IJ don’t mean I’d 
have it otherwise, but there’s no use fooling your- 
self. Here we are stuck in this five-room flat and 
no prospects for anything better for years to come. 
Everything tied up in that new business, and Father 
Minick (MINIcK is now at upper edge of table 
back of the girls, and stops on hearing his name.) 
As long as Father Minick’s with us, it means 
no children for Fred and me—that’s what it 
means. 

Lit. (Sympathetically) Well, Net, you’re tak- 
ing a pretty gloomy view of it, I think. (MINICK 
4s returning through the dining-room to his room.) 
After all, I suppose other people have the same prob- 
lems and worked them out some way or other. 

Nettie. Maybe. But it doesn’t look so simple 
to me. 

Lit. Oh, did Daisy phone you? 

Nettic. Why no. What about? 

Lit. (Rises and goes to R. of desk.) Oh, my 
dear! You know Lou and Eddie are sailing Tues- 
day? 

NetTTicE. Yes! 

Lit. Well, Daisy and Marian are giving them a 
big send-off tonight. 

NetTic. Tonight! 





116 MINICK 


Lit. Of course! She'll be phoning you any 
minute. 
NETTIE. (Shakes her head) Oh, Lil, tonight—— 


[Puts cup on desk. | 


Lit. (Sits on phone stool) It’s going to be 
wonderful! You know the way Daisy is. They’ve 
chartered a whole bus, and they’re going to pick 
everybody up 

Nettie. Oh, Lil, we just c 





What time? 





[ Rises. ] | 


Lit. She said six-thirty. Just before dinner. 
Because they’re driving out to—— 
NetTTIE. Lil, we can’t possibly go. 


[Crossing U. R. of sofa.] 


Lit. Why not? 

NETTIE. We promised Father Minick. We've 
got to stay at home. 

Lit. (Rises) But tonight, of all nights! 

NETTIE. (Sits on sofa) That’s just it. We've 
got to stay with him. I told you about the scene 
we had. 

Lit. (Crossing to her) But it sounds so silly. 
He’s not a stranger here. And just tonight he 
wouldn’t mind. 

NETTIE. But he would, because 

Lit. Now listen. It’s going to be a marvelous 
affair. First we’re driving out to Donahue’s for 
one of those wonderful chicken dinners. Then 
we're going on to the den. 

NETTIE. (Weakening) Oh, Lil! 

Lit. I tell you, it’s going to be marvelous. And 
from the den we’re going to the Early Hour Club, 





MINICK 117 


and Lord knows when we’ll get home. Now don’t 
be silly! 
[Starts down passage. | 


Nettie. I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid 
Fred wouldn't 
Lit. Of course he would. 





[Minick enters from passage. He is wearmg hat 
and overcoat. At his entrance there 1s a con- 
fused and embarrassed stop on the part of the 
two women. | 


Minick. Well! 

Nettie. I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid 
Fred wouldn't 

Lit. Of course he would. And Father Minick 
wouldn’t mind. I never heard of anything so fool- 
ish in all my life. Here. I'll ask him. 





[Crosses to door L.] 
Nettiec. (Panicky) No, Lil! 

[Rises and backs c.] 
Lit. Father Minick! 
Nettie. Lil, I wish you wouldn’t. 
Minick. (Off) Somebody call me? 


[He comes slowly down the hall. He has taken off 
his coat and hat, but has forgotten his arctics.] 





Lit. Father Minick, we just want Nettie 
wants to ask you something. 

MInIck. (Entering and going to NETTIE) Ask 
me something? 

NettTi£. (Rather confused) Yes. Father Minick 


—uh—would you 





118 MINICK 


Minick. Huh? 

NettTic. Well, you see, Fred and I forgot all 
about a party that we’re invited on tonight. It’s a 
great big farewell party for some friends of ours 
that are going to Europe. 

Minick. Tonight? Why sure—lI’ll probably be 
in bed long before you start out. 

Nettie. Well, you see, Father, it’s rather an 
early party. 

Minick. Oh, you mean you’re going right after 
dinner ? 

NetTic. Well—no—the point is—we’re supposed 
to go for dinner, if you wouldn’t mind. 

Minick. For dinner? 

Lit. Now, you wouldn’t mind, would you, 
Father Minick? This once? 

Minick. Me? Why no—I don’t mind. You 
run right along with your friends and have a good 
time. 

NetTtiz. It’s only that it’s such a special party, 
but it doesn’t mean a thing to me. You see, these 
people are such good friends of Fred’s 

Minick. That’s all right. 

Nettie. Well, if you’re sure 

Minick. Yes, sir. I’m sure as can be. (Pinches 
her cheek gently as he looks in her face.) The old 
must make way for the young. 

Nettie. What? 

Minick. It’s all right. 








[Turns toward hall.] 


NETTIE. Well, it’s sweet of you not to mind, 
Father. Aren’t you going out? 
Minick. Pretty soon! Pretty soon! 


[Exits up hallway.| 


MINICK T19 


Lit. You see! I told you it would be all right. 
NETTIE. (Sitting on sofa) Yes—I hope so. 
Lit. My heavens, you can’t let him tie you down 
like that ! 
[Crosses D.R. after her bag.] 


NetTTIE. No, I suppose not, but Tell me, 
what are you going downtown for so early? 

Lit. Field’s advertised georgettes for $1.95— 
all colors—in the basement. I thought I’d get some 
flesh color and make myself a little negligee. Did 
you see that one Marge has? Of course she paid 
a million dollars for it, but I can copy it for prac- 
tically nothing. 

Nettie. Are they hard to make? 

Lit. (Js below desk) There’s nothing to them. 
Just two straight lengths, hanging right from the 
shoulder. Simple as a night gown. 

Nettie. I wonder if I could make one. 

Lit. Of course you could. Why don’t you get 
some, too? Look at it anyway. 

Nettic. Well, maybe I will. (LuLaA enters from 
the passage.) I wonder if they have—what is it, 
Lula? 

Lua. Soap. 

NETTIE. What? 

Lua. I haven’t got any soap for my cleaning. 

Nettie. (Wearily crossing to desk) A\ll right, 
Lula. Jl put it on my list. 

Lua. (Starts to go and turns) I got to have 
it right away. Ain’t got a speck. 

NetTic. (Impatiently) Wm going in a minute, 
Lula. I’Jl have it sent right over. 

Luta. Expect me to clean without cleanin’ soap! 





[Exits into passage.]| 


Nettie. Isn’t it incredible! You’d think I’d 
forgotten it. 


120 MINICK~ 


Lit. They’re all alike. They never tell you till 
the last minute. ... Are you ready? 

Nettig. Yes, I guess so. (Goes sto hall for 
coat and hat, talking as she goes.) 1 wonder if they 
have any orchid—georgette, I mean? I think orchid 
would be good on me, don’t you? 

Lit. (Jn doorway, powdering her nose) Yes, 
orchid would be—or if they haven’t orchid, what 
do you think? 

NetTiE. Well—blue. But not that hard blue. 
You know that blue I wear. .. . (Has put on her 
hat, one arm now in coat sleeve.) If I’m going 
downtown, I’ll have to tell Lula (Comes into 
room.) Lula. (LuLA appears in passage door.) 
Lula, I won’t be home to lunch. And Mr. Minick 
and I won’t be home for dinner. There’ll just be 
Father Minick. You know what there is. And 
Lula, I wouldn’t bother to do much in this room. 
Go right ahead with the bedrooms. And do Father 
Minick’s room first so you'll be out of his way by 
the time he gets back. I'll be back about three. 
And Lula—don’t sing while he’s taking his nap—— 

Lit. Net, everything’ll be picked over if we 
don’t 

Nettie. All right, Lil. And, oh, Lula—if Mrs. 
Stewart telephones—here I'll write it 














[Starts to wrste at desk.| 


Lit. She may say Daisy Stewart. 

NetTIcE. Yes, Daisy Stewart. Tell her that Mr. 
Minick and I are ever so much obliged and we’d love 
to come. Now, do you understand that? 


[Crossing to table and putting note there.] 


Luta. (Who its back of table.) Miss who? 
NETTIE. (Crosses back to desk.) If Mrs. Stew- 
art... . If anybody phones I’ll be back at three. 


MINICK i2i 


Lit. Come on, Net. 

Nettie. All right, Lil. Listen, how wide is it? 
(Gets her purse from desk.) How much do you 
think I’ll need ? 

Lit. Let me see—two lengths straight from the 
shoulder— Oh, I should think about three yards 
would be—— 

Nettie. That isn’t bad, is it? (They are in the 
hall.) Three times a dollar ninety-five——- How 
much is that ? 


[The outer door slams. LULA starts singing spirit- 
ual and comes into dining-room, looking around 
for NETTIE’s coffee cup.] 


Lua. Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen, No- 
body but... (Sees cup on desk. To herself, as 
she gets cup.) There it is (Starts into dining- 
room again, singing.) Nobody knows the trouble 
I’ve seen, Glory Alleluia! 





[Minick enters from passage. He has his coat on 
one arm. He is carrying his straw suit case on 
which are a few shirts. There 1s nothing hur- 
ried or furtive in his manner, he has come tnto 
the room seeking LuLaA.|] 


Minick. Lula! 
Luta. Yeh? 
Minick. Where’s my other shirts? 


[Comes R.c.] 


Lua. (Back of table) What you doin’ that 
suit case? 

Minick. (Puts suit case on sofa) Never mind. 
Where are they? 


[Crossing L. to desk.] 


122 MINICK 


Lua. They in the wash. What you want with 
them? 

Minick. (Puts coat and hat on desk chair) 
When’ll you have ’em done? 

Lua. I irons Tuesday. What you up to, any- 
how? 

Minick. (Crosses to sofa and kneels and starts 
packing the remaining three shirts which he carried 
in on top of the case) ‘Tuesday, eh? And what’s 
the name of that fella comes and takes your trunk 
away? Palmer’r something. 

Lua. You mean Parmelee Transfer Company ? 

Minick. That’s him. Got an office right down 
the street. 

LuLa. What you want transfer company for? 

Minick. What do you think I want ’em for? 
I want ’em to come and take a trunk. 

Luisa. Mrs. Minick didn’t tell me ’bout no trunk. 
What you going do? 

Minick. I know what I’m going to do. 

Luta. If Mrs. Minick don’t know about it, she 
goin’ be awful mad when she come home. 

Minick. That’ll be all right. Mad or no mad, 
I’m going. 

Luta. What you mean—goin’? Mrs, Minick 
ain’t goin’ let you go no place. 

Minick. Let me? I’m not a child. I know 
what I want to do, and I’m going to do it. Think 
I was a plumb fool. 

Luia. I don’t know what you talkin’ about. 

Minick. No, course you don’t. ButIdo. It’s 
going to be better for everybody for me to go to 
the Home—better for Fred and Nettie, and better 
forme. There’s young and there’s old, and they got 
to be let go their own ways. I got my own life, 
same as they have. And I ain’t going to waste it 
teaching pinochle to anybody. 

Lua. But what I goin’ say to Mis’ Minick? 


MINICK 123 


First thing she come home she say, “Where’s Father 
Minick?” What I goin’ tell her? 

Minick. I'll tell you what to tell her. Are you 
listening ? 

Luta. Sure. I’m listenin’. 

Minick. You tell her I said ‘‘Nettie—call me 
Grandpa.” 


CURTAIN 


10. 
a1 
12. 
rz 
14. 


15. 


$8200 St Oe 


SCENE PLOT 


Wall chair. 

Serving table: 

Top—3 glasses orange juice, percolator, dishes, 
knives, forks, napkins, toast and rack glass 
water. 

Buffet: 

Top—z2 candlesticks, dish fruit, knives, forks. 

Dining-room table: 

Top—Table cloth, bowl ferns. 

Dining-room chairs. 

Large easy chair. 

Floor lamp. 

Armchair. 

Desk : 

Top—(a) phone; (b) desk set; (c) lamp; 
(d) assorted papers; (e) school list; (f) card 
catalogue. 

Under—Chicago phone book, waste paper 
basket. 

Desk chair. 

Telephone stool. 

Armchair. 

Bridge lamp. 

Bookcase : 

Top—(a) and (e) amber vase with tulips; 
(b) framed picture; (c) clock; (d) 2 small 
ornaments (elephants); (e) 3 small orna- 
ments (tigers); (f) gavel. 

Smoking table: 

Top—Green metal cigarette box, ivory paper 
knife, ash tray, two books. 

124 


16. 
17. 


18. 


19. 
20. 
A i 


22. 


MINICK 125 


Hall chair. 

Library table: 

Top—(a) books; (0b) table lamp (one socket 
broken so chain does not pull); (c) bowl 
white roses; (d) cigarette box; (e) maga- 
zines (Vanity Fair on top); (f) ash trays 
and matches. 

Table chair. 

Sofa with two pillows. 

Hall table. 

Window seat: 

Top—Bowl Chinese lilies. 

In window—Trick shade, which rolls furiously 
when released. 

Steam radiators. 


HAND PROPS 


Rio) CAGE 


Off Left: Bucket for off stage noises, folding card 
table, clothes-horse, blankets, lunch cloth. 
Tray—Coddled egg, glass water, tea, 
sugar, cream, spinach, Waldorf salad, rice 
pudding, napkin, knives, etc. Hammer 
and screwdriver, suit case, clock, bundles, 
palm. 

Of Right: Straw suit case, 2 cigars, watch, specta- 

cles, card and wallet. 


SHOOND ACL 


Off Left: Dust pan and whisk broom, carpet 
sweeper, pail. Tray—Pitcher orange juice, 
6 glasses, plate sandwiches. 

Right: Newspaper, cigar, pipe and tobacco, pipe, 
clasp knife, watch, loaf bread wrapped, meat 
wrapped, black brief case, tan Boston bag, 
wrist watch. 

On Stage: On desk are several papers arranged to 
be blown off by wind; room is in gen- 
eral disarray ; window shade is awry; all 
flowers are off; all lamps turned out. 


THIRD AGT 


Off Left: Newspaper, well crumpled; percolator of 
coffee. 

On Stage: Dining-room table half set; Nettie’s or- 
der list on desk by ink stand; cushion out 
of place on sofa. 

126 


PIGies: PLOF 
OVERHEAD FRONT 


1,000 W. spots X-rays 1,000 W. spots 
S-P-P-S-B-P P-B-S-P-B-S S-B-P-S-B-P 


es B 
bP S 
S iE 

B—Blue 

P—Pink 

S—Straw 


Footlights—Alternate P, S, B 


BACK LIGHTING 


1st Act: 2 Thousand watts blue (hanging) 
I 6 6¢ green 6é 
Miniature lamps on black canton drop 


(street light effect). 


2nd Act: 3 Thousand watt white (hanging) 
I ‘6 ‘6 ‘6 ‘floor ) 


3rd Act: Same as second, plus 
2 Thousand watt white spots shooting 
through windows 
1 Thousand watt white bunch (hanging) 
I 6é 6¢ 6é 6é (floor) 


127 


COSTUME COLOR SCHEME 


Lit CorEY 


ist Act: (Enter) Savannah brown silk crepe 
afternoon dress, trimmed with deep 
fringe of the same color—sand color 
slippers and silk stockings. (Evits) 
Puts on cape to match dress of same 
color and material, also trimmed with 
fringe. 

2npD Act: (Enter) Black velvet wrap trimmed with 
stone marten fur—small black felt hat— 
black velvet slippers and silk stockings— 
dark blue twill dress, tunic effect, 
trimmed in dark red embroidery. 

3rD Act: (Enter) Green cloth suit dress—green 
felt sport hat—sand colored slippers and 
silk stockings—carries velvet wrap worn 
in 2nd Act. Gloves and hand bag match 
color of slippers. 


NETTIE MINICK 


1st Act: (Enter) Gray silk tailored afternoon 
dress—gray stockings and black patent 
leather pumps. (Exits) Faun colored 
coat wrap—stone marten trimmed with 
felt hat of same shade trimmed with 

. darker velvet. 

2npD Act: (Enter) Light green silk crepe sport 
dress—gray stockings and black patent 
leather pumps—dark blue serge coat and 
black felt sport hat. 


128 


LL 280g 229 





LIBRARY 
OF THE 
UNIVERSITY OF \LLINOIS — 





3rp AcT: 


Ist ACT: 


tsT AcT: 


Ist Act: 


2ND ACT: 


3rD ACT: 


ist ACT: 


MINICK 129 


(Enter) Navy blue tailored silk crepe 
sport dress with white collar—dark gray 
stockings and same pumps as previous 
act. (EHwits) Navy blue tailored cloth 
coat—green felt hat trimmed with green 
feather on side. 


ANNIE 


(Enter) Light blue gingham house 
dress—brown and white checked apron 
—black shoes and stockings. (Evits) 
Old style black suit, small brim black hat 
trimmed with feather (comical), white 
waist, black shoes and stockings—old 
brown fur neck piece. 


Jim Corey 


(Enter) Gray top coat, dark brown suit, 
dark brown stockings and low tan shoes, 
white shirt, dark blue tie, soft tan hat. 


FRED MINICK 


(Enter) Tan top coat, gray soft hat, 
gray suit with white pencil stripes, black 
shoes and stockings, white shirt, black 
stripes; dark blue tie, with dark red 
stripes. 

(Enter) Same, except black bow tie and 
white shirt, dark brown suit. 

(Enter) Blue and white checked bath- 
robe. (Later) Black suit, white winged 
collar with black bow tie; gray overcoat 
and hat. 


MINICK 


(Enter) Old gray slouch hat, gray top 
coat, old black suit, black bow tie and 


130 


2ND ACT: 


3RD ACT: 


1st AcT: 


1st AcT: 


2ND ACT: 


2ND ACT: 


3rp AcT: 


2npD AcT: 


MINICK 


white shirt; congress boots, white wool 
SOX. 

(Enter) Old gray suit, pink and black 
woolen muffler, black house slippers, old 
gray flannel shirt. 

(Enter) Undershirt and gray trousers, 
black bow tie, white shirt, black house 
slippers, and later boots; old gray suit, 
coat and hat, same as Ist Act. 


AL DIAMOND 


Blue suit, pearl gray vest, black bow tie, 
white shirt and winged collar, straw hat, 
fancy band, tan shoes. 


MarGE DIAMOND 


Black georgette crepe evening dress em- 
broidered in white beads over flesh 
colored satin slip, pale blue and pink 
sash, flesh colored stockings, black satin 
slippers, black satin evening cape. 

Gray cloth coat trimmed with gray fur 
collar, small gray felt hat, flesh colored 
stockings and gray slippers. 


LuLA 


Ball blue house dress, with large white 
dots, black stockings and old white can- 
vas slippers. (Later) Black maid’s uni- 
form, white collars and cuffs, small white 
tea apron. 

Same house dress as 2nd Act. Blue and 
white checked apron. 


Mr. PRICE 


Dark gray suit, maroon sweater with let- 
ter “C” in white; large black bow tie, 


3RD AcT: 


2NnD AcT: 


3RD ACT: 


2ND ACT: 


2NnpD AcT: 


2ND AcT: 


2nD ACT: 


MINICK 131 


black shoes and stockings, black over- 
coat with caracul collar, rubbers, slouch 
hat. 

Same as second. 


Mr. DIETENHOFER 


Black suit, light green tie, low collar, 
black slouch hat, black shoes, overshoes, 
black overcoat, gray muffler. 

Same, but no overshoes. 


Mrs. SMALLRIDGE 


Black velvet ribbed wrap, brown beaver 
collar ; brown silk dress with small white 
figures, with black georgette crepe over, 
small brown hat with tan flower 
trimming. 


Miss CRACKENWALD 


Dark navy blue tailored serge dress, with 
long blue cape; small black hat, severe 
lines, black shoes and stockings, tortoise 
shell glasses, white gloves. 


Mrs. LIpPpINcotTtT 


Black velvet cape, navy blue crepe dress, 
black three-cornered small hat trimmed 
with black and light blue tip plumes, 
black slippers and stockings. 


Miss StTAcK 


Brown cloth dress, fur trimmed, small 
brown hat, flesh stockings, browr. suede 
slippers, carries tan brief case. 


THE IMPATIENCE OF JOB 


A character comedy in 3 acts. By Pauline Phelps and 
Marion Short. 6 males, 5 females. 1 interior. Modern cos- 
tumes. 


This modern comedy deals with the advent of elderly Uncle Job 
into the home of the Benson family, already struggling to make 
both ends meet, and who therefore extend him a somewhat grudging 
welcome. 

Uncle Job, blithely unconscious of being considered an intruder, 
is possessed with the belief that he is about to make a fortune in 
some mysterious way which he declines to reveal. Cantankerous and 
irritating, he proceeds to antagonize the Bensons’ rich aunt, the 
only one able to befriend the family in case of need, and whose 
good will has been carefully cultivated. 

Just when Uncle Job’s actions become so erratic that the aunt 
insists he be sent to an asylum, the Benson boy gets into a serious 
scrape, and to the surprise of the entire family, it is Uncle Job who 
comes to the rescue, in a comical though highly practical way. 
Later, Uncle Job makes good on his apparently chimerical scheme 
for achieving wealth, and becomes the savior of the family. 


(Royalty, ten dollars.) Prick s0 CENTS. 


THE EDUCATION OF DORIS 


A comedy in 3 acts. By Marie Doran. 5 males, 8 
females. 1 interior, 1 exterior. Modern and fancy cos- 
tumes. 


The story deals with young people in a co-ed school where a 
substantial tuition is charged. The heroine, Doris Green, is anxious 
to enter the school to complete her studies, after which she hopes 
to engage in social service work. Doris, an orphan living with her 
aunts, finds all her ambitious plans are interrupted when the family 
income is abruptly cut off. Doris calls at the school—not for the 
purpose of entering Miss Fraser’s class, but to bid good-bye. The 
story of her disappointment reaches friendly ears, as well as some 
who are not so well disposed toward Doris. The friends rally to aid 
her, ready to combat the opposition, and the battle is on. But it’s 
not such a rough war—it has many kind and humorous incidents. 
The comedy is developed around this situation, with our heroine the 
central figure in the clash. Sympathetic efforts to overcome knotty 
difficulties result in some very original scenes with amusing schemes 
on the part of the hero, Richard Hunter, his pal Phil Martin, and 
funny Willy Wright. 

Any number of young people may appear in the fancy dress 
scene, and singing and dancing may be introduced. 


(Royalty, tem dollars.) Prick so CENTS. 





THE PASSING PRESENT 


A play in 3 acts. By Gretchen Damrosch. Produced 
originally at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre, New York. 
9 males, 8 females. 1 interior scene. Modern costumes. 


While New York climbs boldly into the skies and tucks its in- 
habitants away into efficient bandboxes, the Frenches go on living in 
an old-fashioned private residence. Times are changing, apartment 
houses are going up around them, modern life has moved in with its 
new ways, but Mr. French, his wife Kathie and his sister Aunt Hallie, 
refuse to recognize this and continue to cling to their old way of 
living, with all its traditions. Although their income leaves them 
little margin, and although their children brood on the inequalities 
of life, they have friends and social position and they keep alive a 
flavorsome corner of old New York. Their son, Lansing, however, is 
their undoing. Hoping to earn a lot of money without working for it 
he gets mixed up in an oil swindle and is about to be sent to prison. 
His sister, Page, in an effort to save her brother and the family 
name, appeals to Brock Tobey, a wealthy broker, in order to get the 
money essential to his freedom. But Mr. French, in hearing of this, 
will have nothing to do with the idea, decides to sell their corner to 
apartment builders, and a general breakup of the family follows. 


(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prick 75 CENTS. 


THIS THING CALLED LOVE 


Comedy in 3 acts. By Edwin Burke. Produced origi- 
nally at the Elliott Theater, New York. 4 males, 6 females, 
I interior scene. Modern costumes. 


Tice Collins believes that every man should marry and has come 
home with the idea of finding a helpmate. As the story opens he is 
to be the dinner guest of the Bertrands and it is the hope of Harry 
Bertrand to impress his guest with the perfection of marriage. Not 
that the Bertrands are an example, but Harry hopes to stage this 
show of devotion as a means to a certain end which has a business 
merger as the objective. The author’s treatment of this revolution- 
ary idea is so good-natured that he sweeps his audiences along in a 
whirlwind of laughter. Mr. Burke does not see marriage through the 
rose-colored glasses of romance nor through the clouds of marital 
bickerings. This disassociation makes possible a true picture of wed- 
lock and he has deftly brought to life a normal group of characters 
engaged in the great American pastime of finding happiness and con- 
tentment. Such an adventure is replete with humor and no little 
sentiment. 


(Royalty on application.) Prick 75 CENTS. 





ADAM AND EVA 


Comedy in 3 acts. By Guy Bolton and George Middle- 
ton. Produced originally at the Longacre Theatre, New 
York. 6 males, 4 females. 1 interior, 1 exterior. Modern 
costumes. 


The story of a wealthy man, his extravagant, selfish family, cling- 
ingly dependent upon him and apparently regarding him as bother- 
some except when he poises pen above check book. These relatives 
even arrange with his physician to have him go away on a long 
trip, so that they may run up bills more freely. In comes the fa- 
ther’s young business manager, who tells his employer how he would 
love a home. The exasperated father tells him they will change 
places and puts him in command of the household, himself lighting 
out for the upper reaches of the Amazon. 

The young man soon finds himself confronted by the same hurri- 
cane of flippancy and terrific bills for lingerie. As a desperate remedy 
he deludes the family into thinking that father’s big rubber business 
is ruined. In divers and humorous manners they meet the emergency. 
Of course, it does them all good and brings out the best in them. 
“Adam and Eva” is genuine fun. It enjoyed a year’s run on Broadway 
and was a great success on the road and in motion pictures. We 
strongly recommend it for amateur production. 


(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prick 7; CENTS. 


ARE YOU A MASON? 


Farce in 3 acts. By Leo Dietrichstein. Produced origi- 
nally by Rich and Harris at the Garrick Theatre, New 
York. 7 males, 7 females. 1 interior. Modern costumes. 


“Are You a Mason?” is one of those delightful farces like 
“Charley’s Aunt” that are always fresh. ““A mother and a daughter,” 
says the critic of the New York Herald, “had husbands who account 
for absences from the joint household on frequent evenings, falsely 
pretending to be Masons. The men do not know of each other’s 
duplicity, and each tells his wife of having advanced to leadership 
in his lodge. The older woman. was so well pleased with her hus- 
band’s supposed distinction in the order that she made him promise 
to put up the name of a visiting friend for membership. Further 
perplexity over the principal liar arose when a suitor for his second 
daughter’s hand proved to be a real Mason. . . . To tell the story of 
the play would require volumes, its complications are so numerous. 
It is a house of cards. One card wrongly placed and the whole thing 
would collapse. But it stands, an example of remarkable ingenuity. 
You wonder at the end of the first act how the fun can be kept up 
on such a slender foundation. But it continues and grows to the last 
curtain.” 


(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prick 73 CENTS. 





A CHURCH MOUSE 


A comedy in 3 acts. By Ladislaus Fodor. Produced 
originally by William A. Brady, Ltd., at the Playhouse, 
New York. 5 males, 2 females. 2 interior scenes. Modern 
costumes. 


This sparkling, tender and entirely captivating little comedy is one 
of the most delightful items that we have added to our list in a long 
time. As Robert Garland, in reviewing the New York production for 
the New York World-Telegram, puts it—‘‘it spoofed big business and 
went as far as to laugh out loud in the face of the depression.” There 
is enough good clean laughter in this play to make it a welcome 
visitor at any theatre. 

The story is concerned with the manner in which a plain, but very 
efficient, stenographer first gets a position as the secretary to a great 
Viennese bank president, and how finally she becomes his wife. 'To 
bring this about she discards her plain office clothes, adorns herself 
in a becoming evening dress and decides to make her employer realize 
that she is more than a writing machine. Her change of costume 
effects so complete a transformation that everyone who sees her hails 
her as ravishing and exquisite; so much so that the bank president 
asks her—little Susie Sachs—to become his wife—the Baroness von 
Ullrich, if you please. A captivating and refreshing comedy, ideal for 
amateur and little theatre production. 


(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prick 75 CENTS. 


POLLY WITH A PAST 


Comedy in 3 acts. By George Middleton and Guy 
Bolton. 7 males, 5 females. 2 interiors. Modern costumes. 


“Polly” is one of the most successful comedies of recent years. 
Produced by David Belasco, with Ina Claire in the leading role, 
it ran a whole season at the Belasco Theatre, New York, as well 
as in London. The play has to do with the clever efforts of a girl to 
manufacture for herself a picturesque past in order to make herself 
more interesting and attractive. The little deceit gets many persons 
into trouble, but Polly and her friends eventually turn the trouble to 
good account, and Polly finds herself—after the secret is divulged— 
even more interesting and attractive than before, despite her desperate 
confession to being the daughter of a Baptist clergyman. Exceedingly 
good fun, with just enough sophistication. 

Your audience will find here an entertainment that is dainty, 
sparkling and diverting. 


(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price 73 Canrs. 





MONEY IN THE AIR 


A comic-mystery in 3 acts. By Thetta Quay Franks. 
Produced originally at the Ritz Theatre, New York. 8 
males, 3 females. 1 interior scene. Modern costumes. 


Amid the shadows of a December night, surrounded by a sprin- 
kling of mistletoe and holly wreath, it is learned that Penelope Worth- 
ington and her aunt Mrs. Courtenay Manners will become heir to the 
fortune of Penelope’s brother, who has been missing for some twenty 
years, if he does not appear by Thursday. Penelope has been making 
every effort to locate her brother, much to the chagrin of the am- 
bitious old aunt. Larry Derreau, engaged to Sally Dale, turns up to 
be the lost boy, but not until a certain Arthur Hamilton ex- 
changes this information with Penelope for half a million dollars. 

They are all gathered at the Long Island home of Mrs. Manners, 
when the villainous Hamilton suddenly upsets the lamp throwing 
the living-room into darkness. A shot pierces the night, followed - 
quickly by another, and as the lights go on again Hamilton is dis- 
covered mortally wounded. It is very apparent that the villain fired 
the first shot—but who fired the second? That is the mystery—a 
mystery that is finally cleared in a novel and highly exciting fashion. 

“Money in the Air” is a fine, clean, wholesome play, very enter- 
taining, and holds your interest from the beginning to the end. 


(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prics 73 Cunrs. 


OUT OF THE NIGHT 


Mystery comedy in 3 acts. By Harold Hutchinson and 
Margery Williams. Produced originally at the Lyric 
Theatre, New York. 7 males, 3 females. x interior. Mod- 
ern costumes. 


Tom Holland, hastening in mid-winter te the Maine lodge of his 
uncle finds the supposedly vacant house in apparent readiness for his 
arrival. Close on his heels come his affianced and her friend, Dr. Sarah 
Walters, seeking ‘an explanation for his visit. The appearance of a 
rural constable in search of rummers, and the added presence of a 
Hindu servant who moves in a mysterious manner, are as nothing 
compared with the accidental discovery that the uncle, thought to be 
on his way to Europe, has been shot to death in the very room where 
the rest of the party are revealed. The tension is heightened by 
mysterious rappings, doors that slam, a hand that reaches out and 
takes a cartridge needed as evidence from the hand of the heroine. 
Not until the final curtain is the situation cleared up, with a “kick” 
that is too good to reveal here. 


(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price yy Curse. 








“THE BLUE GHOST 


A mystery melodrama in 3 acts. By Bernard J. McOwen 
pad J. P. Riewerts. Produced originally at the Forrest 


_ Theatre, New York. 6 males, 1 female. 1 interior scene. 
_ Modern costumes. 


Ghosts—any ghosts for that matter—will make an audience shout, a 


shivec and shake, but a Blue Ghost is something again to be reckoned 
with. Here the authors have succeeded in giving you something 


_ novel, a play that will send your local theatre-goers wild over its non- 


sense, suspense, and bloodcurdling situations: Murder has been done and 


practically everybody’s hair has been standing on end in the castled 


house of Doctor De Former. The periodical appearances of a Blue 
* Ghost are responsible. Inspector Wise, ace investigator, is put on the 


case, and after an unusual number of thrills succeeds in unravelling 
what appears to be a hopeless mystery. The element of fear is skillfully 
turned: into a source of great laughter and amusement. You cannot 
afford to miss it. 

“Eerie, ghostly, uncanny things happened so fast and Suroady 
that the weak gasped, the strong gulped and even the blasé blinked.” 


New York Evening World. 


(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price 7s Canms. 


i). THE TADE'COD 
- Mystery play in prologue and 3 acts. Dramatized from 


Alan Sullivan’s novel by William Edwin Barry. Produced 
originally at the Cort Theatre in New York. 6 males, 4 


females. 1 interior scene. Modern costumes. 


A young novelist turns detective to clear up a murder mystery 
that has baffled the police and prevented the murdered man’s daughter 


. from marrying him. He proceeds on the theory that murderers return 


to the scene of their crime. The former gardener and suspect turns 
up and is engaged along with the weird old housekeeper. The discov- 


ery of the Jade God in a secret panel is heightened by the arrival 


of a strange East Indian peddler. His offer of assistance to unearth 


the criminal is shrewdly accepted by the novelist, and results in a 


hypnotic seance during which the peddler escapes with the Jade God, 
but is captured along with it. The final stroke of detection is accom- 


“plished in resetting and reliving the events leading up to the crime 


- during which a confession is forced from the criminal. The idol is then 


smashed to end its evil spell. The daughter, her father’s death’ now 


oe avenged, finds solace and love in the arms of the novelist who has 





ne brought about the solution. The thrilling events of this clever play 


oar not fail to captivate an amateur. audience. 
~ (Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Prick 75 CENTS. 
















Philip Barry 
Sidney Howard 
George Kaufman 
Harley Granville-Barker 
The Capeks 
Phil Dunning 
George Abbott 
Dorothy Parker 
Ferenc Molnar 
Hatcher Hughes 
Avery Hopwood 
Ring Lardner 
Tom Cushing 
Elmer Rice 
Maxwell Anderson 
The Quinteros 
Lynn Riggs 
Susan Glaspeli 
Rose Franken 
John van Druten 
Benn W. Levy 
Marthe Stanley 
John Golden 
Don Marquis 
Beulah Marie Dix 
Zona Gale 
Alfred Kreymborg 
P. G. Wodehouse 
Noel Coward 
Ian Hay 
J. B. Priestly 
Mary Roberts Rinehart 
Ashley Dukes 
George M. Cohan 
Augustus Thomas 
Winchell Smith 
William Gillette 
Frank Craven 
Owen Davis ! 
Austin Strong 
A. A. Milne 
Harriet Ford 
Paul Green 
Edward Chitie Carpenter 
war s 
Arthur Richman 
George Middleton 
Channing Pollock 
George Kaufman 
Martin Flavin 
Victor Mapes 
_ Kate Douglas Wiggin 
i Roi Cooper Megrue 
b Jean Webster 
George Broadhurst 
Madeline Lucette Ryley 


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Rachel Crothers a 
W. W. Jacobs 

Ernest Denny 

Kenyon Nicholson 

Edgar Selwyn ; 
Laurence Housman 

Israel Zangwili ° 
Walter Hackett © ; 

A.E. Thomas - 

Edna Ferber 

Justin Huntley McCarthy 
Frederick Lonsdale — 

Rex Beach. ; 
Paul Armstrong ’ 
George Kelly 
Booth Tarkington 

George Ade 

J.C. ai Elliott Nugent | 
Barry Conners 

Edith Ellis 

Harold Brighouse 

Harvey J. O’Higgins 

Clare Kummer Se hey 
James Forbes ey 
William C. DeMille 
Louis N. Parker 

Lewis Beach 

Guy Bolton — 

Edward E. Rose 

Marc Connelly - 

Lynn Starling af 
Josephine Prestian Peabody: = aa 
Catherine Chisholm Cushing % 
Ciyde Fitch ae 
Earl Derr Biggers f Bret 
Thomas Broadhurst 
Charles Klein 

Bayard Veiller 

C. Haddon Chambers 
Richard Harding Davis — 
Robert Housum 
Salisbury Field 
Leo Dietrichtstein — 
Eden Phillpotts 

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle 
Brandon Tynan ire ae 
Clayton Hamilton = 
Edward Sheldon iF Wana 
Edward Paulton ay 
Adelaide Matthews 
William Cary is tend Tate, 

























































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